The Other Weasley Child
by daydreamer9898
Summary: His eyes were grey, cold and angry, and his hair was white blonde, and his skin was pale- with just one look, you'd never think of him as a Weasley, with their red hair and freckled skin- but he was. He was Draco Weasley. (reposted.) (sorry for the crappy summary. i swear, the story is a little bit more decent than that.)
1. Prologue

A little girl sat by the pond. She twirled her fingers in the green grass, as she watched the reflection of the moon in the peaceful water. A cool breeze passed, slashing through the thin material of her night gown and her silky smooth blonde hair. The wind murmured inside her ear. She zoned herself out of this world. She kept everything out- she stopped thinking, she stopped listening, she stopped seeing other things apart from what the water showed her. She was cold. Her hands were numb, and she waited. She waited until the numbness went through her whole body, until she couldn't move. She heard the rustling of leaves, but she kept her eyes fixed onto the reflection of the moon. She saw the reflection of a jet of green light. It was like a meteor, or a shooting star. Hoping to see another one, she looked up. But as she did, she realized that everything was on fire. She was back into this world. She saw things for what they were. Houses were burning, she heard people screaming, she saw hooded figures walking by. She was petrified, glued to where she was sitting. She heard the rustling of the leaves, and she looked behind her, afraid but alert. It was her mother. Blood splattered her mother's night gown.

"Come here, Lucy," she said. Her voice was hoarse with panic. Lucy didn't move- she _couldn't_. Her mother staggered towards her, with tears streaming down her face. She grabbed Lucy by the arm, and yanked her to her feet. Lucy's eyes were wide and frightened. She's never seen such thing. Now that she was on her feet, she could see better. The hooded figures had something in their hands- sticks?- and they pointed it to random people and objects, and some kind of light would come out of it, accompanied by explosions and wails and screams. Tears streamed down Lucy's face.

"What's happening, mummy?" she asked, looking up at her mother's dirt-stained face.

"I don't know," she whispered, looking straight ahead of her. "I don't know, baby. I don't- _Aghhh!_" One of them- the hooded figures- appeared in front of them. Lucy saw now that they were masked. Her mother backed away, running, dragging her along. But her mother stumbled in so much panic, and Lucy fell to the ground with her. Her mother didn't move anymore, just kept on screaming for dear life, as if screaming would save her, as if it would help. As if for some reason it would scare all of them off. Even though it was futile, she didn't stop. It sounded painful, as if her tonsils would soon fly out of her mouth. It seemed to take forever before the hooded figure directed its stick toward Lucy's mother and a jet of green light shot out. All of a sudden, she was quiet. She had stopped screaming. Her grip loosened around Lucy's arm. Lucy stared at her in shock.

"Mummy?" she cried. "Mummy? Mummy!" She started shaking her mom, but her body was limp. She was starting to turn cold. Lucy stared back up at the hooded figure- her mother's murderer. She screamed at it. The figure raised its stick, and she was gone. Dead, like her mom. Dead, like everyone else. Dead, like what the whole town is gonna be. _Dead_. Everyone was _dead_.

†††

"Here's to the Dark Lord!" shouted Bellatrix Lestrange. She raised her wand up to the sky, and shouted, "Morsmordre!" Light shot out of her wand, and up in the sky, the Dark Mark. It was the mark of the Death Eaters. It was them declaring their crimes, and this was a big one. The beautiful Mark appeared in the sky. A colossal skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. It rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke. It was beautiful.

"Bella!" Narcissa hissed behind Bellatrix. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Never break tradition, sister," said Bellatrix. She took off her hood, and waved her wand over her face, and just like gas, her mask evaporated. "This night calls for a _celebration_!"

"Because of that Mark, the Ministry will be here in no time!" Narcissa insisted.

"Cool down, Cissy!" Bellatrix barked. "The Ministry will be here anyway."

Bellatrix stepped away from her sister, and started running around, laughing hysterically. "Woohooo!" she cheered, as she set a house on fire, the glass of the window exploding in shattered pieces. Narcissa shook her head in disapproval. She didn't want this. She didn't want to be here, at this moment. She wanted to be at home in the Malfoy Manor where she can look over her son, as he slept peacefully. She wanted to watch his eyelids flutter as he dreamt. She wanted to carry him in her arms, while she still could, because a child only stays a child for such a short time.

"Dolohov!" she heard Bellatrix scream. Bellatrix looked at Antonin Dolohov with much hostility, like a big dog fighting for a bone. "They're mine!" she barked, eyeing the muggle family- 2 little daughters, a mother and a father- with so much hunger.

Narcissa looked away as Bellatrix took her wand out. "Cruciatus!" she shouted the word, as if it was something people say normally, on an every day life. As if it was "Good morning," or "Excuse me," or "Thank you,". Screams broke out, and Bellatrix laughed, taking pleasure in their suffering. Narcissa flinched as she started hearing their breaking bones. She didn't dare look back at them, even when the screaming faded. She was afraid- years of learning the Dark Arts from the Dark Lord himself, years of torturing muggles, even wizards, sometimes, and still, she is afraid.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Without turning to see who it was, she knew that it was Lucius, just as horrified as she is. She placed her hand on top of his.

†††

"But Dumbledore!" Remus cried out, seeing how futile it was to reason with the old man. "The Ministry is blind against the Death Eaters! They refuse to believe what's happening, and therefore, they refuse to take action!"

"Remus," said Dumbledore, his kind eyes turning even softer and kinder. "The Ministry knows what's right."

"No, they don't," Remus sighed, exasperated. "They've taken a completely innocent man to-"

"You've summoned me, Professor," Arthur Weasley entered Dumbledore's office. "Remus," he said, nodding at the other man. Remus nodded, as well. His eyes were angry and ferocious from the argument.

"I believe you are mistaken, Arthur, for I haven't-"

"_I_ summoned you, Arthur," Remus cut in. "I needed back-up."

"Back-up? For what?"

"As you have probably heard, there was- is... There is an on-going Death Eater attack in a small town in the muggle world. And the good ol' Ministry, as we all know, still doesn't know what to do."

"You want the two of us to-"

"No, Arthur! Not the two of us, the whole Order!" Remus said. "But Dumbledore won't let us..."

"Knowing you, Remus, like the rest of the Marauders, you would stop at nothing," chuckled Arthur. He turned to Dumbledore, wearing a humble and pleading smile. "Let us, Professor."

Helpless, the Professor nodded. "Just know, boys, that this is much bigger- much dangerous than what any of you think. If you really are correct- that Voldemort is back..."

"We can take care of ourselves," said a gruff voice, accompanied by heavy thumping sounds, as he limped into the room. It was Mad-Eye. Behind him was the Order. "Let's go, Remus."

†††

Arthur Weasley saw the Death Mark, glowing up in the sky. The mere sight of it sent chills down his spine. He looked away from it, at the dark figures, scattering away like shadows. He looked around him, at the ruins of what used to be a town. He looked at what used to be a house, what used to be the people living in them, what used to be... The town was nothing but what it used to be. Everything was engulfed in fire, and bodies piled up in the streets.

"Get yourself together, Weasley!" barked Remus. He was dueling with a Death Eater. Arthur blinked three times, finally gaining his composure. He took his wand out of his pocket, and just in time, he spotted two Death Eaters, ready to flee.

"Stupefy!" the spell knocks one of them backward, but the other dodged. The Death Eater who was able to dodge, got his want ready, ready for a duel.

"Confringo!" the Death Eater said, blasting the only wall to remain standing in the whole place. Taken aback, Arthur was caught off balance. He saw the Death Eater taking the hand of the other, and once again, they were running away.

Arthur stood up, determined to get them. He was furious, he realized. For a moment, he wanted to kill them, to make them pay for the chaos that they've caused, to make them feel what they had made the innocent muggles feel. He wanted to use the Killing Curse on them, but before he could, before he lost all sanity, he mumbled a spell he hadn't even been thinking about, "Petrificus Totalus!" He got the two of them. They both froze from where they stood, and fell flat on their stomach. Like a big tree falling to the ground. They were motionless. Arthur took several steps toward them, and took off their masks. It didn't surprise him at all that it was Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. He dumped their masks onto the dirt, as if it was a spat on their faces, for all the monstrosity they have caused.

Arthur moved on, looking for other duels. He walked, wand in hand, pointing it absent-mindedly at any Death Eater he sees. All his life, he knew how evil the Death Eaters were, but never in his most horrifying dreams did he imagine that it would be this bad. That they would attack a town and kill all its people, for no reason- just for fun. They were monsters.

After a long night of screaming and shouting curses and jinxes at each other, the battle finally died down. The Order gathered all the Death Eaters they could gather, and tied them up, took their wands and hid it somewhere they wouldn't be able to find.

"The Ministry has agreed to send the Dementors to take you to Azkaban," announced Mad-Eye. The Death Eaters couldn't move, but they flinched. Arthur wondered what they were more afraid of- the Dementors, or Azkaban?

"No!" someone shouted. It was a female voice, it came from Narcissa. "Please, no!" she pleaded. She sounded as if she crying, but no one was so sure, since all of them still wore their masks. "I have a son! A baby! He needs me, please! Arthur-" she called. "Arthur , you must know- Molly must know- how this all feels like, having a baby all alone... Please don't take me away from him!"

Before he could reply, a chilling sound echoed through the night. Suddenly, it was cold. It felt darker than it already was. The Death Eaters were here. "Time for us to go," said Remus, clamping his hand on Arthur's shoulder. They went back to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore's office, where they gathered around the fire.

"One of them- I think it was Narcissa Malfoy," Arthur was the first to talk. He couldn't shake the image of a baby, all alone in the Malfoy Manor. It made him tremble inside. He felt immense pity and sympathy towards the child he never knew. "She spoke of a child- _her_ child. I was just wondering what would..."

"What would happen to the child?" Dumbledore finished the sentence, with his usual melodic tone. "You sound interested, Arthur."

"Don't you have enough, already?" teased Nymphadora. A sly grin spread across her face.

Arthur ignored her. Before he knew what he was even saying, the words exited his mouth, entering everyone's ears. "I want to take care of him."

†††

Arthur entered with his small home, and found Molly waiting for him by the kitchen. As usual, she had a stern look on her face and she had her hands on her hips. He waited, ready for her to explode. But instead, her face softened, and she rushed towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and she smelled the smell of battle. The smell of fire, of blood... She hated that smell.

She pulled away from the embrace, and put her hands on both sides of his face. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay, Molly," he said, quietly, afraid to wake the boys up. "Ron?"

"Asleep. Snoring the night away like his father," she smiled.

"Is it okay... if we... adopt?" he asked.

"Adopt? Well adopt who, Arthur?"

"The Malfoy child."

†††

Molly had agreed to take care of the Malfoy child. Like Arthur, she felt sorry for the boy. What would happen to him now, with his parents both in Azkaban? The Weasley's didn't have a good relationship with the Malfoy's, and doing this would just be like doing a favor for the opposing family. But this is Arthur Weasley. He's ready to set aside everything for the sake of helping someone.

Arthur, accompanied by his wife, Professor Dumbledore and a couple of aurors, found their way into the Malfoy Manor. The sound of their heels echoed through the house, bouncing off its marble walls. The place was dull and dark. He wondered what it must've felt like for Lucius, growing up in such an environment. He sighed to himself, knowing that he would spare one Malfoy the lonely experience of having to live here.

"In here!" one of the auroras called. He was in a room, lit by a floating chandelier. There was a big, luxurious crib by the window, and inside was a little boy, not a single hair on his head. He was little, seemed like he was the same age as Ron. His skin was pale for a baby, and his eyes, just like his father's were grey and cold. But it could change, right? It wouldn't be so cold when he finally learns... When he learns form people who will love him, be there for him, be better parents than his real parents are...

"What's his name?" asked Molly quietly, carefully taking the child into her arms.

"I recall they named him Draco," answered Dumbledore.

"Hello, there, Draco," Arthur whispered.

The child's little lips turned up at the sound of his name.


	2. Letters for Me

_Dear 'Future Me',_

_I'm writing to you now as 10-year old Draco. There's nothing much to say, but by the time I read this again in the future, I want to remember everything that's going on with me right now. _

_My name is Draco. I'm at a phase where I prefer people calling me just Draco, instead of Draco Weasley. I'm at a phase where I feel lost, confused and clueless. I'm at a phase where I want to know who I am, where I'm from, and why I was left with in the care of the Weasleys (my so-called family). I am eternally grateful to Molly and Arthur for having such a good heart to take care of me. They have done a wonderful job at being supported and amazing parents to 8 children (including me). Even though I wasn't of their own, they still accepted me and treated me like family. I am the second youngest child, followed by Ginny. I am extremely close to Ron, mostly because we're the same age and both have the same understanding. Percy is the smart one in the family. In the whole family, the person proudest of him was... well, him. Then there was Bill, who worked in Egypt and Charlie, who worked with dragons in Romania- both of whom we only hear from, but not see. And of course, there was the twins- Fred and George, inseparable as flies and poo. We're not rich like the other pureblood families, we don't have much, but at least we have each other. And to us, nothing is more important than that._

_Today is the last day of July, by the way (just in case you forget when you actually wrote this letter to yourself). I'm counting the days before I finally get into Hogwarts. My letter would come next year, along with Ron's. Mum would be so proud, and act so happy as if it hadn't happened 5 times already. I assume Hogwarts would be fun. I would finally spend my school days with the rest of my brothers. According to everyone, Gryffindor was amazing. All my brothers are players in Quidditch, and I want to be, too. It would be fun! We would be able to play together, and we would win together, and we would try not to lose together, because it's a shame if we lost, knowing that the Weasley kids made up most of the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team._

_But there's something unexplainable inside me. It ruins me, it brings me down. I feel incomplete, and there's numbness taking over the part of me that is lost. I'm a distorted image. I'm a puzzle with scattered pieces that won't seem to fit together. I'm an unfinished and burnt painting. I lost sleep over thinking about it- thoughts come and go inside my mind at night. Sometimes I would have dreams, sweet dreams of me reuniting with my real parents, but then they turn into poisonous nightmares._

_Anyway, I am spirited and determined. I want nothing else but to know who I am, as I've told you from the previous paragraph. And by the time you read this (I would want to read this when I'm 16, by the way) I want me to have the answers. _

_Draco _

†††

_A letter to the boy I used to be,_

_This is me now, 20 years old and living. I've found all the answers we've been looking for. I found out the hard way, and all of it came back to me at once, hitting me like a baseball to the groin. It was painful and it had caused me to do the worse mistakes a person could possible do. I've chosen the wrong choices and people have suffered the consequences. Guilt tormented me, knowing that. I've lost the people I love. I watched them slip away from me, and I couldn't do anything to keep them from going. I didn't want them to leave me, but I didn't show them that. I've lost my mother, my father, my brothers and my best friend. Even the girl I thought I loved the most._

_I've taken people's lives because of the truth. _

_I am no longer a distorted reflection in the mirror. The pieces of my puzzle is no longer scattered- every single piece is now in place. But you know what? All these things didn't do us any good. Ignorance is bliss, my friend. Believe me, it was better when we didn't know. It is better to be hungry for the truth, than to be able to get it but end up choking on it. _

_I took the fast and easy way out. No, I didn't take my life, because, obviously, I'm still here, writing. But I turned my back from it. I ran away from it. But no matter how far I go, it's still with me. The scars from the truth. The scars from battle. I've chosen to live here, in the muggle world. I've chosen to blend in with the non-magic folks. I pretend that I am one of them. I pretend that I am not me. I pretend that I am normal. Not a murderer, not a liar, not a horrible person. I've met people, became friends with them. But the moment I feel like I'm getting too attached, I move away from them. I take the memories of me from them, so they would never know the I even existed. They wouldn't be hurt, but I would. I take that this is my punishment. That I suffer other peoples' pain of loss and grief. _

_I still try to move on. Even though I know I won't be able to. Because every single time I feel okay, every single time I step away from the mess that I am, it pulls me back into misery. A strong force- like gravity, pulls me back into the past, letting me remember every excruciating detail of the events. And it's not like a sword through the chest, that would be better. But it's not. It's like a million, tiny, excruciatingly painful paper cuts. _

_Be careful what you wish for. Because you just might get it._


	3. First year, First Encounters

"Where's Fred, George?" Ron asked George, as he continued his way through the traffic at the Hogwarts Express. They had just passed through the platform- Platform 9 3/4, that is.

"Hey, you two!" shouted a boy behind them. His eyes were grey, cold and angry, and his hair was white blonde, and his skin was pale- with just one look, you'd never think of him as a Weasley, with their red hair and freckled skin- but he was. He was Draco Weasley. Molly and Arthur had adopted him as a child. Despite not being one of theirs, the married couple made him feel as though he was their blood. His siblings did the same, and if it wasn't for the difference in his appearance, he would completely forget that he was adopted.

Draco ran towards George and Ron, angrily pushing his cart forward, rattling it. He punched Ron on the shoulder, as he reached them. "How could you leave me behind?!"

"Ow!" shouted Ron, putting his hand on his injured and probably bruising shoulder.

"Hey..." said Draco, with the sound of realization in his voice. He looked around, standing on the tip of his toes and craning his neck above the crowd. "Where's Fred?"

"He went ahead, with his friends," he shrugged. He acted like he doesn't care, but he looked extremely sad. But his face lit up a bit when he saw someone he knew. "You can find your way from here, right?" he asked without looking at his brothers, and took off without an answer. Draco and Ron stared, following him with their gazes.

Things have been different ever since the twins' first year, when they got sorted into different Houses. George, like every other Weasley, was sorted into Gryffindor, while Fred got sorted into Slytherin. Draco had been there when Arthur and Molly read about it in a letter. They'd both looked surprised and disappointed, but all they said was, "Oh well." No one spoke during dinner that night, which was unusual, for meals with the family were occasionally joyous. When they came back from Hogwarts for the summer, the atmosphere was different between them. It was as if they were disconnected. They've grown apart, and nothing was ever the same with them again. Sure, they would still coordinate pranks, say the exact same thing at the same time, but there's an uneasiness between them. They're laughs are nothing but hollow and empty sounds. It was painful to see. In moments like those, it was extremely painful to look George. He looked as if he was in more pain than Fred. It wasn't George that changed, it was Fred.

Was that really the effect of Slytherin? Was it true what Draco had overheard some children say? That all the bad people are in Slytherin? So, is Fred bad now?

†††

The moment Draco had stepped into the train, it was as if he had stepped into a different world. The curiosity sent fireworks exploding in his mind, and there was a chaotic commotion in his stomach. He gulped. He followed Ron, who was looking for empty compartments for them to stay in. Ron's trembling hands, shoulders and knees were visible to Draco, which made him comfortable- at least, he wasn't shaking. But each step he makes sends a thunderous thump to his heart. Bits of sweat formed in his forehead. He used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe it off. He doesn't even know what he's so nervous about. Maybe it was the heavy feeling in the atmosphere from being the new kid. His stomach was tied in knots, and he doesn't have a reason for it.

"Oh, here's one!" said Ron. His voice shook as he spoke. Draco looked at the compartment his brother found. It was almost empty, except for a boy. He was about the same age as them, and he had dark hair and round glasses. He looked as if he was lost in thought, staring out the window. Ron knocked, and Draco immediately felt sorry. Ron has interrupted the boy's thoughts. Ron opened the door to the compartment slightly, then popped his head in. "Do you mind if my brother and I join you? Everywhere else is full."

"No, sure!" the boy said, gesturing to the empty space in front of him.

Ron pushed the door aside and strolled in. Draco followed, closing the door behind him. "I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley. And this is my brother, Draco." He introduced the two of them as they settled in their seats.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

Ron's eyes widened, and Draco's tongue got twisted. _Harry Potter?! This is Harry Potter? Who could've thought he'd be so ordinary?_ Draco thought. "Blimey, are you really?!" Ron asked in disbelief. "Do you... do you... do you have the-" Draco smacked his brother's arm.

"Don't ask him that!" Draco hissed. "Don't be rude!"

"It's okay," said Harry politely. "Do I have the what?"

"The scar," Ron and Draco said at once, a little bit too eagerly. Draco caught himself, and smoothed out his sweater, clearing his throat. Harry reached up to his forehead, and got his hair out of the way. There it was. The legendary scar- a thunderbolt etched into the skin of his forehead. "Wicked!" Ron exclaimed. His eyes lit up in amazement. Draco smacked him again.

"Will you stop that?!" Ron turned to Draco.

"Will_ you_ stop that?!" Draco countered.

The three of them looked up, as the door slid open. There was a nice old lady outside, pushing a trolley of candies. "Is there something I can get for you?" she asked.

"No, thanks," said two of the boys. They both clutched the sandwiches their mother had prepared for them. Harry looked sympathetically over at them, and reached into his pocket. He took out a fistful of coins, and announced, "We'll take the lot!"

†††

The boys feasted upon the treats, indulging themselves into its sweetness. They've been gorging their way through the stack of candies for an hour, and each of them felt like blowing up, but can't quite stop. Harry looked at them curiously. "What is this?" he asked, taking a box of candies, which looked like what they call 'jelly beans' in the muggle world. It says 'Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans'.

"It literally means _every_ flavor," said Draco. He looked spitefully at the box, remembering that one time when he tasted something undesirable.

"Yes," said Ron, with his mouthful. "Once, Draco, here, ate the booger-flavored one."

Harry's face contorted with disgust, and set the box of beans down. He turned to another one, which said 'Chocolate Frog'. He opened the little box, and inside it was a chocolate frog. What he didn't expect was what happened next. The frog started hopping around the compartment. "Be careful!" said Ron, chasing the frog around. Draco chased after it, too. And so did Harry. The three boys ran around and around the compartment, laughing hysterically. Never in his life had Harry experienced this. He has never laughed with anyone, never ran around, chasing each other. Are these two boys his friends now? That would be nice. He felt light and invincible, he felt happy. He now knows what_ fun_ means.

The frog leaped out the window, dropping out of the moving train. Harry dropped to his seat, Draco dropped to his, and Ron dropped to the floor- all of them laughing hysterically. They don't even know what they're laughing about. At this point, all their laughing at is their own laughs.

"Ahem!" There was a girl standing by their door. She looked sternly down at them, with so much superiority it made the boys and seats straighten up, and made Ron get off the floor, and take seat next to Harry. "Need I remind you that this is a train, not a playground?" Draco looked at Harry, raising his left eyebrow. The three of them were quiet, but trying so hard to stifle the hysterics bubbling out of their stomachs.

"And who are you, may I ask?" said Draco, taking a stand. He walked a few steps toward the girl.

The girl took several steps so she was right in front of him. She kept her back straight and her chin up. She looked down at him, with difficulty, because he was taller. "I'm Hermione Granger," she answered confidently. She said her name as if it was a fact everyone knew, as if she was someone famous or something. "And you are?"

"Draco," he answered, matching her confidence. "Draco Weasley."

"And I'm Ron," piped Ron. "And this is Harry. Harry Potter. I know he doesn't look mighty and all, and he actually looks kind of pathetic, but... yeah, that's him."

"Thank you for that wonderful introduction, Ron!" said Harry, rolling his eyes.

"Your welcome, buddy!" said Ron, not noticing the obvious sarcasm.

The girl, Hermione, looked at Harry with an expression of awe. "Blimey, are you really?!"

Ron gasped, "That's what I said!" Hermione ignored him, and walked her way to Harry. She sat next to him, and looked at him as if he was a very significant relic in a museum. "Bloody hell," she whispered, still astonished.

"Don't bother him!" said Draco, turning to her.

"I'm not bothering him!" argued Hermione. "Anyways," she said, looking spitefully at each of them. "I don't have time for immature boys like you." Then she turned to Harry, "I expected more from you, the boy who lived. The chosen one. The one who stopped You-Know-Who." Then she walked out. But before she closed the door behind her, she reminded them, "You should change in your robes. We're almost there."

†††

Draco, Harry and Ron stepped off of the train, once they were at the Hogsmeade Station. It was dark, by then. The stars shone brightly in the dark sky. The moon was big and bright, illuminating the dark clouds that surrounded it. The three of them gathered with the first years. The older students had gone their own way, since they don't need any assistance anymore. Heavy steps approached them, and Draco looked at a pair of shoes- a _huge_ pair of old, worn-out leather shoes. He moved his eyes, slowly taking in the figure.

"Hello, Hagrid," said Harry.

"Hello, Harry," The big man answered. His hair was all over his face that Draco wondered if he had a face at all. "Okay, first years!" he called all their attention, clapping his hands. His voice was a thunderous, booming sound that echoed in Draco's ears. "My name is Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys of Hogwarts. Now, follow me!" They all followed the big man in the raggedy clothes. He led them to the edge of the Black Lake, where they rode on boats. Draco rode with Ron and Harry and a boy named Neville, who looked as if he was going to puke. He held his toad close to his chest, as if it would somehow save him. _Or maybe he would puke into it_, Draco thought. He looked down at the water, and saw the reflection of the sky. There was nothing but darkness, with specks of light coming from the stars. Then there was him- a distorted reflection of him. It was like a painting. The lake was the canvas, and the image painted in it was the reflections. It was a painting that made sense to him. The distorted reflection of him symbolized... well, _him_. His whole personality was distorted. He's confused, he's lost... and that's all he'll ever be. He'll always be the boy left by his parents. Without his past, he'll always be distorted-

Gasps surrounded him as they approached the castle. It was big, bigger than anything he has ever seen. They stepped out of the boat, and instead of the boy named Neville, it was Ron who puked. No one noticed, though, because they were all too busy admiring the castle.

"I puked on my shoes," he said, groggily. Draco just patted him on the back.

†††

The massive doors of Hogwarts opened at once, and a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She wore a pointed hat, cocked to one side of her head. She had a very stern face, leaving the first impression that she was not someone to cross.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, in a few moments you will pass through these doors, and join your classmates." she announced. "First off, you would be sorted into your Houses-" Draco's face lit up brighter than the whole castle. His smile spread even wider when he heard the House he knew he's be in, Gryffindor.

McGonagall disappeared into the corridors. His thoughts drifted as they waited, and blindly, he followed the group as they entered the hall. Other students were seated at the long tables. He looked up, and saw candles- not chandeliers, because that would be too mainstream- but candles, floating in thin air. He also saw the nebula in the ceiling. Behind him, he heard Hermione telling another girl about what kind of magic they used to make the ceiling look like the nebula.

Draco's POV

"Draco Weasley," I hear my name. Every atom in my body crystallized when the professor called my name. My feet felt heavy as I started to make my way onto the platform. It was as if I was wearing shackles, and it kept on dragging me down. I straighten my back, and take a deep breath, as I start to realize the silence that filled the room. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. felt everyone's eyes on him. I looked to my right, at the Slytherin table and spotted Fred. The people beside him were snickering, but he was still as a statue. His eyes were intently on me. I look to my left, and found the Gryffindor table. I saw George and Percy, and... wait, is that Ron? I hadn't even noticed that Ron was no longer beside me. _Good_, I thought, smiling to myself. _The three of us are together._

I close my eyes as the Sorting Hat was placed on top of my head. "Hmmm..." it said. I could feel it purr through the strands of my hair. It was like a massage therapy. "Another Weasley, sort of... Hmmm... A lot of potential, I see. Pretty clever. Beautiful mind, very beautiful, very curious. Intelligent, but still has a lot to know... Hmmm... Just like your father." It took a pause. _"_Mhmm_... _I see. You're a lost little boy, aren't ya? Following them around like a lost puppy. You want to know who you are? Why don't I do you a favor and give you all the answers..." There was another long pause. Before I realize it, I was trembling. Beats of sweat formed on my forehead, and my palms were already clammy. Suddenly the atmosphere is cold. I hear the word the Hat says. But I don't understand it. It doesn't matter because I know where he put me in. Gryffindor, of course. That's where I belong, with my brothers. I open my eyes, and step off of the stool. My body is okay now, with fluids moving freely in my system. I start to make my way to the Gryffindor table, but stop in the middle of a step when I see their grim faces. I see George and Ron giving me weak smile and a thumbs up. _Why? I'm in your House, I'm a Gryffindor. _I wondered.

Behind me, I hear Professor McGonagall call out another name. For some reason, I turn my head to the right and find the Slytherins clapping their hands, the others even cheering. I see Fred and his shining eyes. He had on a huge smile. He waved his hand, as if urging me to come over. Then it comes back to me. The Hat didn't say Gryffindor. Neither did it say Ravenclaw nor Hufflepuff. Clearly, it said Slytherin. I feel my knees start to buckle, and urged my legs to move. Fortunately, I arrived at the Slytherin table without tripping. I sat next to a girl named Astoria.

"Nice one, Draco," it was Fred. He leaned closer to slap me on the shoulder. There was a sickening sensation in my stomach. What did the Hat mean when it said '_Just like your father_'? Did it mean Arthur, or my real father? Was my real father a Slytherin?

"Harry Potter," McGonagall called. The room fell into silence, and I look up. I wonder where the Hat will put him, the boy who lived. Every pair of eyes were on him, including mine. But for some reason, I still feel like someone is staring at me. I look around, and up the teachers' long table. At the edge of the table was a man. He had on black robes, and his hair was a black, greasy mess. He stared at me with cold, curious eyes. His eyes sent me shivering in my seat, despite the warmth the candles provided.

"That's Professor Snape," said Fred. "He's the Head of the Slytherin House. Don't worry, he stares like that at everyone."

†††

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," said Professor Snape as he stepped onto his podium. "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few... Who possess, the predisposition... I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."

Draco has met the professor last night, in the common room. He was a thin man with sallow skin, and a large, hooked nose. He dressed in flowing black robes which made him resemble an overgrown bat. He had shoulder-length, greasy black hair which framed his face in curtains. He curling lips and dark, penetrating eyes that resembled tunnels. He was intimidating- no, that's an understatement. He's frightening. He seems cold and bitter. And worse, he's calculating. He seems to be reading your each movement you make. His stare sent chills down Draco's spine.

Draco sat next to Ron, who sat next to Harry. They seemed to have developed some kind of friendship without him. Was he jealous? Draco caught the professor staring coldly at Harry. Draco turned to look at Harry, just to find him doodling in his book. Draco reached behind Ron, and tapped Harry on his shoulder.

_Stop_, he mouthed. Harry did, and looked up at the professor who was still staring at him. "Mr. Potter..." he said. "Our new celebrity." He started questioning Harry, and the boy couldn't answer. Draco raised his hand when he knew the answer to save Harry some embarrassment.

"Thanks," Harry said when they got out of class.

"No problem," said Draco.

"So, how's Slytherin?" asked Ron. He didn't look at Draco as if he was embarrassed by him. He looked at Draco the way he always has- as a brother, as a friend, as flesh and blood. Draco was relieved. He had thought he'd be disowned. It was as if the world had been lifted up from his shoulders. A smile crept across his face.

"Better than I expected," he answered.

Draco, Ron and Harry walked side by side as they continued to their next class. The three of them were still chilly from Professor Snape's cold stares from Potions class. "It's a surprise we survived in there!" Ron exclaimed. The three of them laughed, the same way they had in the train. Like they were friends. Maybe they _are_.


	4. Troll in the Dungeon

Things have been good in Hogwarts. Everything worked out better than Draco had expected, and after just a few days, he finally accepted the fact that he was a Slytherin and that his family would love him still. He had made friends in Slytherin- Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Blaise Zabini. He gained confidence from the fact that his brother, Fred, was in the same House with him. Knowing that he wasn't the only Weasley in the House made him feel better. Despite being in a different House, he remains to be close to Ron and Harry. The three of them had developed a very strong friendship, and managed getting into trouble more than once.

He ran down the crowded corridors of the castle, alongside Harry and Ron, who was still chewing half of his sandwich- he was in the middle of eating his third sandwich when they all realized that it was time for the next class, so he ended up eating the whole thing with one bite. They ran mindlessly and made it to the first floor, and realized that they were in the wrong way. They went back up the stairs, and tried in vain to go on the right track. They've been in Hogwarts for at least a month or two now, and they still get lost. They remember being offered a map by Professor McGonagall.

They ran through the traffic, opposing the flow of the students who were headed the other way. Their voices echoed through the hall, each of them talking excitedly about something. Their words buzzed in Harry's ears. "I might be choking," said Ron, his words were barely understandable with his mouth full of food. "I might die if the food gets stuck in my throat."

"That's okay, Ron," said Draco, without meaning what he said. He was too scared to be late to actually pay attention to what his brother was saying.

Ron looked incredulously at Draco, and his face contorted into an unfathomable expression, but he kept his mouth shut, and continued running. Soon, it was only the three of them in the halls, running as if a pack of wolves were at their heels. All the students were in their classes, and they were late. "Faster!" Harry hissed, as they were finally in the Charms corridor. The classroom they were supposed to be was 2E. As they entered the room, they saw Professor Flitwick standing on a stack of books in the middle of the room. But no matter how high the stack was, it seemed that they were still taller than him. It seemed like he was performing a charm, with his arms in midair, carrying his wand with such grace. But it was as if the classroom froze, and all eyes were stuck on the three of them. _Maybe that was the charm_, Draco thought. _Freezing people in place_. Professor Flitwick looked at each of them, with gentle but questioning eyes.

"Sorry, sir," said Harry, still breathing heavily. Ron crouched down next to him, trying to catch his breath. "We were lost." Draco grabbed Ron by the collar and straightened him up, and they both nodded.

"Very well, then," said the professor. "Take your seats." Draco walked to the other side of the room, with the rest of the Slytherins, and slipped into a seat next to Pansy. There were only two seats available in the Gryffindor side, and each seat was far apart- Harry took the seat next to a kid named Seamus, and Ron was left with no choice, so he sat next to the girl they preferred calling 'Ms. Know-It-All', Hermione Granger.

"I really don't know why you like hanging out with them, Draco," Pansy sighed, resting her chin in her hands, as she leaned in on her desk. She didn't look at him, she looked at Ron and Harry. "You've got _us_, you know. You no longer need them."

Draco kept quiet, not knowing what to say, not knowing what she meant. Did she want him to stay away from them? From his own brother? And if she did want that, would he obey her?

Professor Flitwick went on with his class, saying over and over again, "Now remember, swish and flick, okay? Swish and flick..." Draco looked across the room, and without surprise, found that Ron was asleep, drooling all over his desk. Hermione shook him awake, and looked at her hand with so much disgust it was as if she held a slug. Ron wiped the drool off of his chin with the sleeve of his robe.

Professor Flitwick explained about the so-called Levitation charm. It's a spell that would lift objects into the air and could cause them to hover for varying lengths of time, depending on their weight, and the skill of the spell caster. "Say it altogether, now," said the professor, straining his ears and closing his eyes, listening intently to the students' enunciations.

"Wingardium Leviosa," they all did as he said.

"Good, good," he said. "Now what I want you to do is levitate the feather in front of you, okay? Now, get your wands out and begin!" He looked around with so much excitement.

Draco took out his wand, and looked at the feather. He took a deep breath, and said the words carefully, "Wingardium Leviosa." Nothing happened. Swish and flick. "Wingardium Leviosa." Still nothing, not even a small twitch or something. Swish and flick. "Wingardium Leviosa." Nope. He was impatient now. "Wingardium Leviosa!" Still nothing. He looked across, at Ron, and found that he was having trouble, too. He looked at Harry, and found that their feather has exploded. He turned back to Ron, who was now being lectured by his partner.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Draco heard Hermione say. "You're going to take someone's eye out! Besides, you're saying it wrong. It's LeviOsa, not LevioSA."

"You do it then if you're so clever," replied Ron, sitting back, and extending his arm to let her proceed. "Go on, go on."

She cleared her throat, and with a gentle movement in her wrist, she said the words, "Wingardium Leviosa!" The feather hovered, levitating into the air, moving into Flitwick's view. He clasped his hands in delight. "Wonderful job, Miss Granger!" he said.

Ron angrily crossed his arms, and looked away from the feather. As if to spite him, she made it land right in front of him, with a huge smile on her face.

†††

"It's LeviOsa, not LevioSA," said Ron, mimicking Hermione as the three of them, along with Neville and Seamus, walked to the Great Hall. The five of them laughed. "She's mental, that one. No wonder she still doesn't have any friends!" He was oblivious to the fact that she was walking behind their group, and can hear every word he was saying. She told herself that those words doesn't affect her. What does he know? He's nothing but one of those pureblood wizards who know nothing. _This doesn't affect me_, she told herself. _Don't let this affect you, Hermione Granger_. But he wouldn't stop. He kept on saying things about her as if he knew everything there is. It was too painful that she wished she could just tear her ears out of her head so she wouldn't be able to hear a word he says. She clutched her books to her chest as he continued. There was a sting in her eyes, and instinctively, without knowing it, she sniffed. One of them- Draco- heard her, and he looked back at her. He was surprised to see her there, and looked sympathetic. He looked over at his brother and smacked his arm, but it was too late. Hermione willed her feet to move faster as the tears started pouring, and walked ahead of the boys. She wiped her eyes, but it doesn't make a difference.

"I think she heard me," said Ron, sounding a little sorry.

"You _think_?" said Harry, rolling his eyes.

†††

Dumbledore has finished his speech and had gotten back up to the long table. Out of thin air, food appeared. All kinds of food- chicken, salad, rolls, pastas... everything. The feast has begun. Everyone dug in as if they haven't eaten for a whole year. Ron dropped his utensils to the table and started eating with his hands. He took turns in biting each of the chicken in both of his hands.

"... I heard her," Harry overheard Parvati Patil talking to her twin, Padma Patil. "She was crying."

Padma shot Harry and Ron a look. "What have you boys done this time?"

"What?" Harry asked.

"Hermione Granger has been crying herself to death in the girls' lavatory," answered Parvati.

"Did you hear that, Ron?" said Harry, nudging Ron with his elbow.

"Hear what?" Ron asked, with his mouthful. A piece of chicken flew out of his mouth as he picked up The Daily Prophet and started reading one article.

"Hermione Granger has been crying," answered Harry. "I think it's because of what you said."

"Hey, look, Harry!" Ron said excitedly, swallowing the food in his mouth. "Discounted prices in Honeydukes'!"

Harry looked at the paper in awe. He wanted to act like he cared about Hermione- and he did, but discounted prices? Wow. He suddenly forgot about Hermione, weeping in the dark, all alone... He lost himself in a dream. He imagined being in Honeydukes' and being able to buy at least half of the candies on his list. When suddenly the booming and echoing sound of the great doors of the hall as it was pushed open snapped him out of reverie. "Troll!" shouted Professor Quirrell, as he ran into the room, breathless from running and shouting at the same time. "Troll in the dungeon!" He kept on shouting those words, until he reached the foot of the platform, and all he could say was, "Troll... Dungeon... There's a... troll... in the... dungeon..." The room fell silent. The moment his words sank in, everyone started getting up and shouting for dear life. The most chaotic ones were the ones from Slytherin, scared out of their pants.

"SILEEENCE!" Dumbledore's voice became loud and thunderous, causing each student to stop in their tracks and look back at him. "Prefects, Head Boys and Head Girls, please assist the students in your Houses to your respective Common Rooms... _calmly_."

Percy led the way for the Gryffindors, and started the way out of the Great Hall. There was something tugging in Harry's mind, as if he'd forgotten something. Then it snapped. Hermione! He grabbed Ron by the collar, and got him into a corner, where no one would bump into them. "Hermione's in the girls' lavatory," Harry explained. "She doesn't know about the troll!"

"And so?" asked Ron, his voice was shaking.

"We need to go and get her," Harry hissed. "Or have you forgotten that you're the reason why she's there?"

"What are you two still doing here?!" Draco hissed upon seeing them.

"Hermione's in the lavatory!" Harry explained. "She doesn't know what's happening. She doesn't know about the troll!" And without any more words, he took the Weasleys by the sleeve of their robes and started to run to the girls' lavatory. Big heavy steps echoed through the corridor as they neared the lavatory, and there they saw the big troll. Slowly taking its steps towards the same direction they're headed.

†††

Hermione stepped out of the cubicle, her cheeks moist with tears. She wiped them with the sleeve of her robe, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. _You're stronger than this_, she reminded herself. _Their words doesn't affect you. Those are just words. _She looked at herself in the mirror- her hair was a mess, her eyes were red, and the tip of her nose was like Rudolph's_. _She opened the faucet and let the water flow. She splashed the water to her face. Then suddenly there was a loud thud. Another one followed, then another, and another, and another... Like someone was dribbling a gigantic ball. She thought of laying low, but it was too late. Before she could move a muscle, there it was. Slowly, it entered the room. It was gigantic. It was like a giant, just even more disgusting. Snot shot out of its big nostrils. It was a troll, and before Hermione could stop herself, she screamed a loud piercing scream. She ran into one of the cubicles, trying so hard to think straight and not panic. But the troll had a big club, and he swung it, smashing the cubicles and sending pieces of wood flying in the air. Hermione crouched down, covering her ears with both her hands. She couldn't manage to stand, so she crawled, taking cover under the sink. But the troll spotted her immediately. Before it could do anything else, someone threw something at it. The troll looked around, confused and clueless. Hermione saw three figures, and even without seeing their faces, by gut she could tell who it was. She looked down and saw that one of them, Draco, was losing a shoe. She realized that he must have thrown it at the troll.

Harry ran over to Hermione as fast as he can. But the troll spotted him immediately, and grunted. Harry wrapped his arms protectively around Hermione. Another slimy snot flew out of its nose, landing in front of the redhead. Ron's face contorted in disgust. He could feel his stomach tightening.

The troll raised its club, ready to smash Harry and Hermione into pieces. By instinct, with nothing else to do, Draco jumped onto the troll. He grabbed onto the troll's arm, which was as thick and as rough as a branch. The troll tried shaking Draco off, but Draco held on tighter. As a child, Draco would climb trees along with Fred and George. He was an excellent climber. Now, he pretended that he was climbing a moving tree- the whomping willow, perhaps. In no time, he was sitting on the troll's shoulders. He looked down and saw the great height. Dizzied, he hugged the troll's hairless, stinky head. "Do something!" he shouted at the other three. He took out his wand, thinking of a spell that might get him out of this trouble.

At the same time, Ron took his wand out, thinking of something- anything. Then it all snapped in place. His mind wandered to where it all started- to why they were actually here. He pointed his wand at the troll's raised hand. "Wingardium Leviosa!" The words flew out of his mouth, without him even realizing it. To his- and everyone's- surprise, it worked. The club floated out of the troll's hand. It looked up, confused. _What sorcery is this?_ it seemed to think. Just as the club was raised high enough above its head, Ron let go. The club fell to the troll's head, and it staggered, trying to keep its balance. Draco held on to troll tighter.

The three children angled themselves, trying not to get in the way of the following troll. It fell to its knees, and continued to fall facedown on the tiled floor, with a thunderous thud.

"Draco!" Ron ran towards his brother. Draco's face drained of color. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Ron," he answered sarcastically. "I just fell a couple of feet above the ground on a troll's head. I feel excellent!" He realized, all of a sudden, that his hand was empty. "My wand!"

Then came group of hasty footsteps, and hushed voices. Soon, Professor McGonagall appeared. She gasped as she took in the whole scene. "Oh dear!" Behind her was a dark figure. It was Professor Snape, with his usual aura of blazing cold hatred and darkness. He caught sight of the troll, and with a swish of his wand, he turned it over, so that the monster was lying on its back.

They all looked at it. Draco noticed something poking out of the troll's nose. A stick? "My wand!" he exclaimed, and ran over to it. Gently, he pulled the wand out, and found that it was covered in slimy and gooey snot. He felt his stomach turning. "_Ick!_"

"Are you okay?" Harry whispered to Hermione. Hermione nodded, not being able to trust her tongue to move and form words.

"Do you want to go to the hospital wing?" Draco asked, and she shook her head.

"Can someone please explain what happened?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Ron opened his mouth, ready to give her the rap. But as if finally gaining her voice back, Hermione answered. "It was my fault, professor," she said. Her voice sounded small and weak. She looked like a wreck. "I thought I could take the troll on my own, so I... followed it."

"You do know that points would have to be taken for this act of stubborness, Ms. Granger? Not only did you act so carelessly, you also put the lives of these boys in great danger." McGonagall's words stung like a bee in Hermione's head. It was one of the most painful things she has heard. She flinched, but nodded. McGonagall turned to Ron and Harry, "Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, please go on back to the Common Room." The two of them left. Harry nodded at Draco, and Draco nodded back. McGonagall then guided Hermione to Madam Pomfrey, even when Hermione refused.

Until all there was were Professor Snape and Draco. "Go back to the Common Room," Snape said flatly, with his ice cold voice. Draco nodded stiffly, still afraid of the professor.

†††

Draco met the other two by the moving staircase like he always did. It was a perfectly normal day, and somehow, the other night, Draco was hoping for something more... well, not normal. He expected groups of people circling around the three of them as they explain yesterday's tremendous events. And they would all look at him admiringly as he told his heroic actions- how he threw his shoe at the troll, how he jumped onto it, climbing its arm as if it was a tree... "Oh, Draco, how heroic!" one girl would say. And some Slytherin guy would say, "We're so lucky we have him in our House!"

But no. There was no crowd. There were no looks admiration. There were only people who would pass by him, without even looking. It was a perfectly normal day. "Good morning," he heard a girl's voice, and turned around to see who it was. She looked at him sheepishly, with her pink cheeks and red ears, which was curtained by her wild and bushy brown hair. "I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to thank you yesterday. I just... I just came by to thank you."

"No problem, Granger," Draco said, straightening his back and smoothing out his robes. He took pride from her gratitude. "Do you want me to tell you the whole story?" he asked. She giggled. He noticed, for the first time, that she had a beautiful smile. The sight of her smiling made his lips form into a rueful smile. They laughed together at absolutely nothing.

Maybe Draco was wrong about her. Maybe she wasn't really uptight- okay, she was uptight. Really uptight. It's just that maybe all she needs is for someone to help her loosen up a bit. Someone to take her away from books and logic, and just... let it all go. Even for just a moment.

_...Would that someone be Draco?..._

* * *

_**Thank for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. Please tell me what you think! :)))))**_


	5. Triwizard Tournament

It was a dark, cold night. The wind whispered softly in Narcissa's ears. It was pitch black inside her cell, illuminated only by the faint light of the moon. There was the quiet hums she had gotten used to. It was the Dementors, making their rounds as they always do. She hugged herself tightly, trying to keep her body for trembling as the coldness seeped through the thin material of her prison robes. A screeching voice startled her. "The Dark Lord will come!" it was Bellatrix. All Death Eaters has given up faith from the Dark Lord. They've been in here for years, but where was he? Bellatrix, who would easily turn her back on her family without hesitation, has an unwavering love and loyalty towards Him. She was hopeless, but still hoping. "He will come for us! The Dark Lord will save us! We know whose side you're on! You can't fool us!"

"Shut it!" someone hissed. It was a man's hoarse and strained voice. Narcissa bit her tongue as she painfully realized that it was her husband's. He has changed. They all had. Each and every one of them had lost all sanity. They were all draining away in Azkaban, slowly and painfully. It felt as if though they were turning into skeletons, and they have long turned into skeletons, and yet, they're still not dead.

Narcissa buried her face in the palm of her hands, inhaling the scent of dirt and sweat and blood. She weeped into her hands, trying to stifle the sobs that are inevitably escaping her chapped lips. Every night this would happen- she would cry and cry and cry, thinking of what might have been. If she wasn't there on that bloody Death Eater attack... She wondered about her son. She wondered if he was still alive, or if he starved to death when she and Lucius didn't come home that night. If he was alive, how was he? Is he lonely and miserable? Is he as broken as his parents? She lost count of days, weeks, months, and years. She wondered how old he was. Was he old enough to be in school? Was he in Hogwarts? Did he think about her? Did he miss her? Does he even know about her? Did he ache for her as she ached for him?

A loud blast took her out of reverie. It startled her so much, that she felt her heart jump out of her chest cavity. She raised her head, eyes wide and red-rimmed, shining with tears. Bellatrix's hysterical laugh broke through the cells of Azkaban, echoing through the darkness. Narcissa scrambled to her feet. The chains, the shackles on her made loud clanking sounds as she moved. "Bella!" she hissed. "What was that? What's happening?"

"Salvation, sister," Bellatrix answered. The moon illuminated her features- her dark, tangled hair surrounded her head like a big halo of darkness, bloodlust and lunacy reflected in her sadistic, black eyes. Her cut lips formed into a mischievous and triumphant grin.

_He has come._

†††

It was that time of year again. Each year was the same, but without them noticing it, they were growing up. The students of Hogwarts gathered in the Great Hall, to once again, attend the Sorting Ceremony. The new students gathered around the front of the hall, and their chatters echoed through the room. Draco was annoyed by them. He didn't know why, but whenever there were new first years, he was annoyed. "Pesky little first years," he mumbled.

"Now, now, Draco," said Pansy, patting him on the shoulder. "We've all been there."

"But we weren't that annoying," he argued.

She smiled a very toothy smile, "True."

Like before, McGonagall called out names, and the students would sit on the stool on the platform, where she would place the Hat upon their heads. The Hat would call out a House, and House members would cheer for their new members. Draco couldn't care less about the newcomers, but still, he joined his House as they started cheering, some even jumping up and down.

After the Sorting Ceremony, Dumbledore made his usual speech, which usually starts with, "Welcome students..." But this year, he took a longer introduction. Draco felt his eyes getting heavy as Dumbledore continued speaking through the hour. "...But instead of having Quidditch teams, this year, we have decided to do something even more special." That got Draco's attention. One of the reasons he loved going to Hogwarts was Quidditch. If they're taking away Quidditch for "something more special", then it better be good. "This year, we will have... THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT!" a round of applause and shouts and hoots came, even though no one really knew what that was. But the word 'tournament' can have anyone celebrating in a heart beat. Dumbledore went on to explain the mechanics of the said tournament. "The Tournament calls for a single champion from each of the three largest wizarding schools in Europe to compete in a series of three trials for the prize of one thousand Galleons. Though it was banned in the past due to people dying in these dangerous tasks. I have talked it out with Mr. Ludo Bagman, the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and Mr. Barty Crouch, the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. And the three of us had agreed to reinstate the tournament under the condition that new safety rules are used, including that no student under the age of seventeen will submit their name for consideration."

†††

Several months passed after that announcement during the first day of school. The Great Hall was now buzzing with excited chatters as the students heard about the other two schools joining the tournament- Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. But there was a gloomy haze inside Harry Potter's head. If that whole scene was a painting, the whole canvas would be exploding of cheerful colors, but in the middle was a smudge of black. That little black smudge was Harry, dwelling upon his misery as he read a Daily Prophet paper that came out months ago. He's read about a man named Sirius Black. He was a convict, a murderer, and a follower of Voldemort, the man Harry defeated. This man broke out of Azkaban, which was unbelievable. Nobody escapes Azkaban, nobody could escape the Death Eaters. He was imprisoned in Azkaban for murdering 13 muggles and more than 20 wizards- Harry painfully learned that two of those wizards were James and Lily Potter, his parents.

"Why so glum, Potter?" Harry was surprised to see Draco sitting with them on the Gryffindor table. He looked out of place there. For some reason, Harry didn't mean to be rude, but, he felt as if Draco belonged in Slytherin. Like Draco wasn't fit to be in Gryffindor, at all. Draco was nice and everything, but he had the features of a luxurious pureblood wizard. He looked nothing like a Weasley, nor a Gryffindor.

"Don't bother him, Draco," said Ginny Weasley. Ginny was the youngest of the Weasleys, and she arrived in Hogwarts two years ago. She was small and sheepish. She turns red whenever she sees Harry, and hated it when her brothers teased her about it.

"Look, Ginny, don't worry. I'm not in love with him, I won't steal him from you," Draco smirked. He turned to Harry, "Unless _you_ like _me_? Well, if that's the case, I can't do anything about it. Can't blame you, Potter. I mean, with my looks and everything..."

"Shut up, Weasley!" Harry chuckled, rolling up his paper and hitting Draco with it.

"The question is: which one?" Ron said, seating himself into the empty space next to Harry. The question made Harry laugh. It's been an inside joke in Hogwarts, since the Weasleys took up almost half of the Gryffindor House.

"There's that smile," said Hermione, as she watched Harry move away from the gloomy atmosphere that surrounded him. "Thank you for making the snow stop falling."

"It snowed?" Harry asked, wide-eyed.

"You absent-mindedly connected your emotions with magic-" said Hermione. She looked like she was about to say something more, to inform them of what kind of magic that is, but Draco placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed. He does that when she's being a little too smart in situations that didn't even require logic. Hermione obliged, and kept her mouth shut.

"So," said Draco, leaning across the table and resting his chin on his arms. "What's the matter?"

"You know Sirius Black?" Harry asked. He laid the Daily Prophet on the table, and pointed at the man's picture. He was serious again, lost in his anger and frustration. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the tears that stung in his eyes.

"Well, he's nothing but the legendary man who escaped from Azkaban," Draco answered wittily. He smirked, feeling smarter than Hermione now that he was the one supplying the information. "He was in Azkaban because he murdered someone-"

"Not just someone, Draco," interrupted Harry. He grabbed the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles were white. He tried to keep himself from shaking from fury. "People- muggles, wizards... H-he- he murdered innocent people. He murdered..." But before he could finish, Dumbledore was up on his podium, clapping his hands to capture their attention. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and everyone else looked up at the old professor. But Draco didn't. His grey eyes remained on Harry, who was still clutching the table. Draco looked at him with concern and curiosity. Harry seemed pretty angry when he talked about the vigilante. Draco has heard many things about Sirius Black, the people he killed, the curses he used, the innocent wizards he blamed... He was powerful and great, but he was a lune. And it was because he was a lune that he joined the dark side. It was because he was a lune that he was caught. It was because he was a lune that he killed his own best friend. Draco heard that somewhere. Some wizards said he killed his own best friend out of losing his mind. Sirius Black was a tragedy, a great tragedy, some say. Could it be that Sirius Black killed someone Harry knew? Is that why he was so angry?

The big doors of the Great Hall opened, and Draco realized that he had missed what Dumbledore was saying. He looked from Dumbledore to the dumb old door, and back, and he saw Ron at him admiringly. Draco stared at him, confused, then realized that Ron wasn't looking at him at all. Ron was looking _behind_ him. He shifted in his seat, and found a group of girls standing by the giant doors. They all wore blue silk dresses, and on top of their heads were blue hats. They were all so beautiful, and Draco's jaw dropped at the sight of them. They moved so fluidly, marching with an air of grace and elegance. As they passed the Gryffindor table, one of the girls' hands brushed against Draco's cheek. Her skin was as smooth as the silk she wore. Draco's eyelids fluttered as her touch lingered on his cheek.

"Pull yourself together, Weasley," Hermione said, smacking him on the shoulder.

"Ow!" he exclaimed. "But... which one?"

"All of you!" Hermione answered, smacking George and Ron, as well. Hermione and Ginny grunted in disgust. "Boys," they both muttered. "So pathetic."

"And I have to live with a whole lot of them!" complained Ginny.

"You have my deepest sympathies," Hermione held her hand, and looked sympathetically at her.

After the French girls in blue silk, a tall woman followed. Tall isn't even an accurate term for her. She was gigantic- she was slender, but as tall as a lamp post. "And I thought Hagrid was a giant," muttered Ron. The woman was covered in her black satin robes, from her toes to her neck. Her face was olive-toned, the only thing in her features than weren't black. Despite her size, her movements were graceful and elegant, like her students. She reached the platform, and Dumbledore kissed her hand lightly. She still towered over Dumbledore, despite being on the lowest step. When all the girls have settled, and their teacher, whose name was Madame Olympe Maxime, has seated with the other teachers, Dumbledore continued and introduced the boys of Durmstrang.

They were only boys, presumably at the age of seventeen and older, but they looked as if their age spanned somewhere between 20 and 25. They were all straight-backed and their faces were free of expression. They marched through the hall, as if they were real soldiers marching into war. They all looked fierce and tough, notorious and gallant at the same time. It was the girls' time to be amused. Draco noticed one of the boys wink at Hermione. She was blushing, trying to hide the smile forming in her lips. But she couldn't any longer, so she turned to Ginny and they both giggled.

"I don't get what girls see in them," Ron said smugly.

"Oh, so your the only ones who could enjoy the show?" Ginny asked, her face and her ears were reddening. She turned back to Hermione and started fangirling to themselves. The three boys just rolled their eyes as they had to endure their loud chatters and girly giggles. Annoyed, Draco decided to move away from them. He stood up as slightly as he could, so no one would notice, and decided to run back at the Slytherin table. As he turned, he bumped into a man, whom he presumed was the professor from Durmstrang. He had on a wide smile, but it didn't reach his cold blue eyes. He looked at Draco. Draco felt everyone stop and looked at him. The man put his big, bony hands on Draco's shoulder, and grinned, showing off his yellowed teeth. "A familiar one, you are," he said it as if he was thinking, not talking to him. "And what might your name be, young man?"

"Draco," he gulped. His nerves froze. "Draco Weasley."

"A Weasley, eh? You don't look like one," and with that, the man walked passed him, and shook hands with Dumbledore. Draco watched as the man leaned in to whisper something in Dumbledore, and the old man looked down at Draco. Draco locked eyes with Dumbledore, as he noticed the puzzled look in the old man's soft blue eyes. Draco decided to look away and began to make his way to the Slytherin table. "What was that about?" Pansy asked, as Draco sat across from her.

"You tell me," Draco answered.

"Igor Karkaroff," Fred leaned closer to him, as he spoke. "He was a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's followers."

"Then, why is he here?" asked Draco. With a sudden realization, his jaw dropped open. "Fred, did you say... Vo-"

"So, Flint," Fred turned away from him. "Who do you think would win this tournament?"

But Draco didn't listen. He still dwelt in the fact that his brother actually said that name- _the_ name. He didn't know anyone capable of saying that name out loud. None of the professors dared to so, and neither did his parents. And that man- Igor Karkaroff- if he was a Death Eater then what was he doing here? Shouldn't he be in Azkaban, or something?

He looked up at the professors' table and found Igor talking to Professor Snape. They seemed to be in a deep discussion, as his brows were knitted together in... what, frustration? Snape turned to look at Draco, and so did Igor. There was a look of great interest in Igor's eyes as he smiled at Draco. Draco looked away. Something in the way Igor looked at him- and the way Snape looked so angry- made him tremble inside. He tried to flush all of the uncertainty inside him down, by engaging in a conversation with Pansy and Crabbe and Goyle. Mostly, it was just Pansy who was talking. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem to pay attention, just reacting every now and then with a "Yeah?" or "Really?" or even "No way!" when necessary. Soon enough, the students from the other schools had to join the House tables. The Beauxbatons, to Draco's disappointment, were placed at the Ravenclaw table, where they easily blended in. While the Durmstrang soldier-like students were placed in Slytherin. A Durmstrang boy sat next to Draco, and they got talking. Draco couldn't even pronounce the other boy's name. The boy spoke with a heavy Swedish accent. But still, Draco found what he was saying interesting. At the end of their conversation, he even considered going to Durmstrang next year, and decided to talk to his parents about it. The whole room was crowded with their chatters. But all sound died down when the lights dimmed, and instead of a podium, there was one big goblet. Inside it, blue-white flames ignited, and swayed from one side to another. "Students," Dumbledore stood next to the big thing. "This is the Goblet of Fire-" there was chorus of ooooh's and aaaah's from the crowd. "I ask all students- seventeen or older, of course- to step forward, and put their names- written in a piece of paper- into the fire. The Goblet of Fire will be the one to choose one- only one student from each competing schools. May the odds be ever in your favor." He stepped away, letting the students, from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, put their name into the fire. The fire made a sizzling sound as it absorbed the small pieces of paper.

Once all the students have settled back into their seats, the whole room was filled with nothing but silence and the overwhelming spirit of surprise and excitement. Dumbledore stood next to the Goblet of Fire, and with astonishment, they all watched, wide-eyed, as the calming blue-white flames turned fiery red. A piece of paper, burned around the edges, flew out of the flames, as if it was spit out, and floated in the air. Dumbledore stretched out his arm and opened his palm, as he waited for the paper to land. It finally did, and as Dumbledore cleared his throat all the students eagerly strained their ears. "From Durmstrang Institute... VIKTOR KRUM!" The crowd roared up, as the famous Seeker from the Bulgarian Quidditch Team made his way up to the platform, next to Dumbledore, with a triumphant grin on his triumphant face.

The applause and cheers died down, as once again, the flames turned red. Like before, it spit out a piece of paper. Dumbledore snatched it in the air. "From Beauxbatons Academy of Magic... FLEUR DELACOUR!" The same reaction came from the crowd, and a beautiful girl stepped up and took her spot next to Viktor Krum. She had on a beautiful smile, not too big, not too eager, just simply elegant.

The same thing happened- the flames turned red, a piece of paper is launched into the air... "And from Hogwarts... Our very own, CEDRIC DIGGORY!" A boy from Hufflepuff stepped up, and walked towards the platform. He was a tall and handsome young man, with dark hair and bright grey eyes. He was friendly and popular. Draco remembered beating him in a Quidditch game between Slytherin and Hufflepuff, where they were both Seekers. It was a friendly match, and no one held grudges. The crowd burst into cheers, louder than before. But after a few moment, replacing the cheers were gasps, as the flames of the Goblet of Fire turned red again. Dumbledore looked around at the Goblet, and stared at it with eager curiosity. A piece of paper shot out, and he snatched it eagerly from the air. "Draco Weasley?" it came out as a mumble, at first, unbelieving. "Draco Weasley!" he called out louder, but still, it sounded weak. Draco took a look around, helplessly. The rest of the Slytherins looked at him wide-eyed, and Fred had on a grim expression. He took a look at Harry, who looked at him questioningly, and Hermione, who looked as helpless as he was, for some reason. She looked worried and concerned, she looked at him as if he was a helpless ferret trying to get out of a snare. He looked over at Ron, and for a moment, their eyes met. There was a look of betrayal and distrust in Ron's eyes, and he looked away. Draco felt so helpless that he wanted to cry.

"He's not even seventeen yet!" someone complained. Draco looked as if he was going to be sick and faint. Fred pushed him up, and Draco staggered up to the platform. From where Ron sat, he could see his brother explaining to Dumbledore, but that was that. The Goblet chose him, therefore he shall fight. Ron didn't know what to feel. Was Draco really that sneaky? He felt betrayed, for some reason.

* * *

**_THANKS FOR READING! HOPE YOU ENJOYED. SIT STILL AND CALM DOWN, DON'T RUSH ME, I'M GOING TO UPDATE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE._**

**_REVIEW! TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK. :)_**

**_I KNOW, I KNOW, THAT WAS A HUNGER GAMES REFERENCE. "Like a hopeless ferret"? Hope you see what I did there. ;) TEE HEE_**


	6. Interviews & Dragons

Draco's POV

Dumbledore ushered me into his office. He sat behind his desk, and looked up at me as I stood in front of him. I took a look around the room, and found it pretty interesting. It was a large, circular room with many windows and portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses. Behind Dumbledore was a big portrait of his own, bigger than the other portraits. The room was lined with shelves, full of big and old and dusty books, thicker than anything I've ever seen. On top of one shelf, was the Sorting Hat. It seemed as though it was looking down at me. "Well, what're 'ya looking' at, boy?!" it asked grumpily. I almost jumped out of my skin when it started talking.

"N-n-nothing, nothing," I stuttered. I was trembling all over, and I tried unsuccessfully not to.

I don't understand what's happening, at all. I didn't put my name in the Goblet. I didn't even want to be in that tournament, in the first place! This is all a misunderstanding. Maybe someone was pulling a prank on me. One of those 4th years, maybe. But still, I can't shake the feeling off of me. I feel nervous, and most of all, scared. The Goblet has chosen, and I wanted out. But I don't want to do this. There's a reason why the only ones who were allowed to join were students 17 years and above. It's too dangerous. And I don't even have experience! I'm smart, yes, but I'm clueless when it comes to actual combat. I won't be able to get through this- that much, I know.

"Draco, would you please tell me how you got your name into the Goblet?" he asked. His voice was as soft as ever, but there was a sense of cold seriousness that sent shivers down my spine.

"I-I-I don't know, P-professor," I stuttered, even more worse than Quirrell ever did. I cleared my throat, and tried to talk straight. "I never even ever thought of actually joining. I-I swear, I had nothing to do with. P-professor..."

"Are you sure?" There was a curious tone in his voice now. He looked me in the eye with so much intensity that his soft, blue eyes almost resembled the white-blue flames of the Goblet.

"Y-y-yes!" I hear a loud flapping of wings. I take a look behind me, an found a majestic-looking bird, perched on top of what seemed like a bird bath. It was covered in crimson-colored feathers and it has a long golden tale, as long as a peacock's. His claws and beak are gleaming gold and his eyes are black. The scarlet body feathers glow faintly in the dimness of the light inside the room.

"That's Fawkes," Dumbledore said, as if he has read my mind. I looked at Dumbledore, who was staring admiringly at the creature of magnificence. Suddenly, the bird ignited with fire. Its body and its feathers were ablaze, but it just sat there coolly, as if its end wasn't coming at all. It then came to a point where it turned to ashes, slowly falling down into what seemed like a giant ashtray. I stared, astonished. I blink several times, not quite believing what I witnessed. Something beautiful was there just a moment ago, and just like that, in an instant, it was set ablaze and turned into ashes. "He's not dead, Draco. Don't worry."

"But- but it was-"

"He's a Phoenix. Intelligent creature, he is. And powerful." Dumbledore said coolly. "Now, now... Are you sure you didn't put your name into the Goblet?"

I nodded, "Yes. I'm sure." He sighed, and leaned back in his seat. I could tell he was thinking deeply, searching for a logical explanation for this misunderstanding. "You may go back to your Common Room, Draco."

†††

"Draco!" it was Hermione, sitting by the steps of the moving staircase. "What did Dumbledore say?"

"Were you waiting for me? How sweet!" Draco teased, with a half-hearted grin. Hermione punched him on the shoulder. "What a girly punch, Granger!"

"Trying to get yourself killed, aren't you?" she said. She was serious, not joking around. Draco gulped. He tried to avoid the seriousness of the subject, but knew there was no escaping it- not with Hermione. Hermione is the kind of friend who would _make_ you face your problems and not let you walk away from it. But at least, she'd be there for you, no matter how tough it gets. That's why he and Ron and Harry were lucky to have her as a friend.

"I just need you to believe me that I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire," he said calmly. He was tired of it- tired of being scared of it. There's a reason things happen, and he figured this probably happened because he needed to stop hiding behind his brothers when something serious comes up. This happened because it's time for him to man up, to stand up for himself, to learn to fight for himself. Because no matter how many brothers he has, they wouldn't always be there for him.

"And I believe you," Hermione said. There was an edge to her voice- her voice was so soft and quiet that it was as if she was close to tears. "Bagman and Crouch gave a hint on what the first challenge would be..."

"And what was it?" Draco asked. He braced himself for the answer.

"Dragons," Hermione said. Draco gulped, and nodded painfully. He bid Hermione goodnight, then started walking away, down to the dungeons in the Slytherin Common Room. But before he disappeared from Hermione's sight, before the darkness engulfed him, she wanted to say something to him. _Right here, right now, or never at all._ "Draco!" she called. He stopped in his tracks, and looked back at her. The whole scene was a beautiful picture. His white blonde hair showed despite the darkness, and shadows were cast on half of his face. Hermione was no artist, but her hands itched for a piece of charcoal and canvas. She took in a deep breath. She was ready to say it. "Rita Skeeter would interview the Champions tomorrow!" The wrong words came out. _Why?!_

Draco nodded, then disappeared. Hermione watched as he disappeared into the corridors._ Right here, right now, or never at all. I guess it's never at all._

†††

"The Dark Lord has _plans_," answered the Professor. He looked sternly down at the pleading student in front of him.

"But does it have to be _now?!_" the boy continued pleading. "Don't you see, he's not _ready!_"

"I know you're concerned... But the Dark Lord has decided... and even though you're not smart, you must be... _sensible_ enough to know that you have_ nothing..._ against Him."

†††

"Good morning, Champions!" Rita Skeeter's melodic and chirpy voice ringed in Draco's ears, and he flinched in annoyance. Rita Skeeter has blonde hair set in elaborate and curls that constrast oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wears jewelled spectacles studded with rhinestones, and has thick fingers ending in two-inch nails, painted crimson. Her blonde curls are curiously rigid, suggesting it is styled with the magical equivalent of hairspray. In addition, she has penciled-on eyebrows and three gold teeth, as well as large, masculine hands. Her scarlet-painted fingernails are usually likened to claws or talons. She wore a coat made of green leather and had fur lining the collar and the cuffs of her sleeves. She looked drastic and ridiculous to Draco.

She called up Viktor Krum, and he followed her into a room. He looked as if he was in pain when she called him. Well, Rita Skeeter isn't one of those much-loved witches in the history of the Wizarding World. She was extremely nosy and willing to do anything for a good story — from spying on people in her Animagus form of a beetle to sensationalising or outright inventing stories. She took advantage of anyone who was foolish enough to allow her to nose around, and she didn't care who she stepped on as long as she had a good story. Krum came out of the room looking angry. Next up was Fleur, who didn't look as though she could hate anyone. She looked pure and kind and nice, as though she wasn't capable of feeling negative emotions. But when she came out of that room, she looked infuriated and disgraced. "She is an evil animal in the form of a lady!" she said, with a thick French accent. Cedric came in next. It seemed too quick though. It seemed as though he was inside for just five minutes.

"Were you in there for just five minutes, or does time just fly by?" Draco asked.

"I wasn't in there for five minutes," Diggory answered. "I was in there for _four_ minutes."

"Draco Weasley!" Rita called. She tried to keep her voice sweet at all times, and she thinks it is, but in truth, she sounds like a dying crow.

Draco followed her into the tiny room. It was dark inside, and they had to bow their heads so they could fit, even when they were sitting down. _I'm pretty sure Harry's cupboard is bigger than this place. _

"So, what does it feel like to be the youngest Champion? Scared, huh? Too much pressure? Do you think you could win against them?" she spoke fast, and as she did, the plume floating in the air wrote all the words she said down in a notebook, also floating up in the air.

"Uhhh..." the plume started moving as Draco started talking. "I really don't know. I mean- first of all, I didn't want to be here in the first place, y'know. So, I feel kind of stupid, being here and all. Like a misfit- a guppy in the ocean along with the sharks."

"Hmmm... I like your choice of words, young man- No, don't write that down, it was just a remark." she cleared her throat. "What's it like being friends with the ever-so legendary Harry Potter?"

Oh. Of course. "There's nothing special about Harry," he said. He didn't mean it as an insult, it's just that he knew that Harry was humble and wanted to stay low. "He's normal- okay, maybe not that normal, because he stopped... he stopped You-Know-Who, or something. But besides that, he's just like everyone else! He's a good friend, and all. Very smart... on some things."

Draco had the longest interview time- 2 hours. And most of the questions wasn't even really about him. The questions Rita asked were mostly about what he thought about Harry being this and that, doing this and that... Harry, Harry, Harry... The Chosen One. The Boy Who Lived. And who was Draco? The boy in the sidelines. He didn't realize it before, and Rita made him, that he was jealous of Harry. He was sick and tired of hearing about how wonderful Harry is. It's all about Harry. Always just Harry. No Draco, no Ron, no Hermione... Just Harry.

But it's different now- at least, it's going to be. If Draco wins this tournament, everyone would finally see him. They would appreciate him. He may not have beaten the Dark Lord, but he was _the youngest wizard to ever win the Triwizard Tournament_. He would be the most celebrated wizard of the century. His name would be on the Daily Prophet. Next time Rita Skeeter interviews him, it would be about _him_ and how great _he_ is. That was something. It's a goal set, then- to win this tournament.

†††

It was finally the day of the First Task. All the Champions were in a tent- bigger on the inside. Rita Skeeter and a bunch of photographers were in there with them. And Draco, feeling like... well, a guppy in the ocean along with sharks, stood behind everyone else. He leaned against the wall of the tent, not too heavily though, because the tent would collapse.

"Pssst!" he heard. "Draco?" It was Hermione. "Draco, is that you?"

"It's me," he said. He cocked his head to the side, so he could hear her louder.

"Are you okay?"

"Just kind of nervous," he answered. _Kind of? Really? You're fighting dragons for Merlin's sake!_

"Harry and Ginny and George and I would be cheering for you," she whispered.

"And Ron?" Hermione fell silent. She didn't answer, but she sneaked into the tent. And wrapped her arms around his neck. "Good luck, okay? Try your best. Try not to get burned by the dragon."

Draco chuckled. "Yes, I'll _try_."

"Oooh," Rita purred, causing Hermione and Draco to jump away from each other. "Looks like we've got ourselves some love birds!"

"They're just friends!" Viktor Krum said, defensively. But no one payed attention to him, because before anyone could say more, Barty Crouch already entered the tent, and huddled all the Champions together. Before leaving, Hermione held Draco's hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

In the middle of the circle that the Champions have formed was Crouch, with a little black pouch in his hand. "Inside these are little miniature dragons," he explained, looking at each one of the Champions. "What I want you to do is take one from the bag. Whatever kind of dragon you get from this, you will get to face the actual dragon outside in the arena. Now, around the neck of the miniature dragon is number, indicating which order you would face in." He started counter clockwise, first was Fleur, who got a Common Welsh Green. She was going second. Next was Viktor, who got a Chinese Fireball. He was going third. So, there were only two spots left: first and last. It was either Cedric or Draco. Cedric cautiously dipped his hand into the bag, and got out a Swedish Short-Snout. He was going first. _Yes! _Last but not the least was Draco. He carefully dipped his hand into the bag. "Ow!" he said, withdrawing when he felt something bite him. Crouch urged him to go on and get it. He dipped his hand back into the bag, and felt the scales of the dragon tickling and gashing his palm. He took it out, and studied its features- black scales, a spiked tail, and bronze horns protruding from its head. It has yellow eyes with vertical pupils.

"The Hungarian Horntail," Barty Crouch said, as if he was actually worried. "Be careful out there, boy, he's dangerous."

†††

Time passed by, and Draco waited for his turn to go out into the arena. From inside the tent, he heard several screeches and roars, and the cheering of the crowd. He heard the loud sizzling of big fires, and saw the silhouette of rocks through the canvas of the tent. The objective of the First Task was to retrieve a golden egg that was being guarded by a dragon- the egg would be located within a clutch of real dragon eggs.

Viktor was out there now, and Draco was all alone. He walked back and forth, cracking his knuckles. The popping sound of his bones somehow lessened his fear- but it wasn't enough, of course. He has heard, several times from Charlie, how dangerous the Hungarian Horntail was. It was ferocious and vicious. Along with their viciousness Horntails are shown being extremely fast while in flight able to keep up with a Firebolt broomstick, a broom capable of going from 0 to 150 miles per hour in 10 seconds.

There was a chorus of loud shouts, but not from alarm or danger- the crowd was cheering. Viktor won. "You're up, Weasley!" someone announced from the outside of the tent. Draco saw who it was when he walked outside of the tent. He didn't know and have never seen the man before. He looked as though his face was roughly carved from wood. It was covered with scars, and a chunk of his nose was missing. He had dark grey, grizzled hair. His eyes, however, were his most shocking feature: one was small and dark while the other was a vivid, electric blue magical eye and moved around independently from his normal eye. "Alastor Moody, or Mad-Eye Moody, if you please," he said, speaking too quickly. "I'm your mentor, by the way. Sorry, I'm late. Go on, now."

"Any piece of advice?" Draco asked, thinking his mentor would at least provide that for him.

"Don't die," he simply said, and took a swig from his silver drinking flask. He pushed Draco on the shoulder, and Draco came into the view of the audience.

Hermione's POV

Draco stood there, among the rocks. He was visible enough for me to see that he was scared out of his wits. He took a look around, and when he spotted me, I waved. He grinned that usual grin. "Hermione, look," Harry whispered to me. He pointed behind Draco, and there it was. The egg. I looked at Draco, and pointed behind him. _Behind you. The egg is behind you. _He followed the direction I pointed to, and as he saw the golden egg, he took a dive for it. But as he did, an angry-looking dragon appeared. It screeched a scream, hurting everyone's ears.

Draco didn't get the egg, for he had to take cover behind a big rock. The dragon opened its mouth, producing a big flame. "Oh my," I gasped, as the fire started to look like an asteroid.

"Ow, Hermione you're hurting me!" exclaimed Ron, who looked more worried than in pain. Hermione had clutched his hand too tightly, and her nails had scratched his palm.

"Sorry, Ronald!"

†††

Draco nervously reached into his pocket, and took his wand out. The rock he was leaning against was as hot as an oven. He realized, panicked, that his back was on flame. "Aguamenti," the spell escaped his mouth before he even thought it. The fire was put out.

"Accio broomstick," he whispered. He closed his eyes, waiting for the Nimbus 2000 back in the Slytherin Common Room. _Come on, come on, come on... _There was the sound of something slashing through the wind. He opened his eyes and found his broomstick lying on the ground in front of him. The dragon seemed to have spotted it, and shot out fire. But Draco got on his broomstick immediately, and was flying through the sky. The circled around the arena, watching the dragon spit fire all around, forming protection over the eggs. There was no way he could get the egg as long as the creature was there. An idea hit him. _Lead him away_.

He flew on his broomstick, soaring up in the sky. He knew he had angered the Hungarian Horntail, and that it wouldn't let him get away with it. As expected, the dragon followed him. Both of them shot through the sky, as the chains that bound the dragon broke.

†††

Ron's POV

Draco and the dragon were both out of sight. I look down underneath us, and find that the arena was on fire. Hermione, beside me, was trembling with fear. She looked as though she would start crying. "How could you?" she asked. She didn't look at me, but I knew she was talking to me. "How could you sit there coolly, knowing that there's a dragon on the loose, on your brother's heel? How could you stay so emotionless despite knowing that your brother's life is in grave danger?"

"You really want to know how?" I asked. With that, she looked at me. "Because I know he can do it. Because I believe in him. Because he's a survivor, when even he don't know it."

"Ron..." she whispered. She's never heard me talk like this, and even I am surprised. I'm Ron Weasley. I'm not supposed to be the smart one and I'm not supposed to be the deep one. But those word escaped my lips without me even knowing it. And meant it. I do believe in Draco. I've been so mad at him for being so sneaky, that I've been so unreasonable. I haven't spoken to him, not since that night. And what if I'm wrong? What if Draco doesn't survive this? I didn't even get to say goodbye. I let my pride get in the way...

†††

Draco's POV

I try to speed up, to outrun this dragon, but I can't. According to Charlie, Hungarian Horntails are as fast as Firebolts. And everyone knows how much faster Firebolts are than the Nimbus 2000. I am so screwed right now. I see the Black Lake, and try to dive down, probably stay down in the water until its lost and confused. I dove down, but the change in my direction caused an opening for the dragon. The dragon overtook above me, and was now under me. Its mouth opened, and fire shot out. I got out of the way, just in time, but the flame had gotten to my broomstick. I tried in vain to put out the fire, before it spread, and somehow, succeeded. I continued flying, forgetting about the Lake. I saw the castle, and decided to fly around it. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore.

I circle the castle, I guess I'm just stalling for now. I leaned forward, tipping my broom a little downward. I went through small openings, just loop to loop. I figured this would annoy the dragon, then just fly away and never come back. I do this for a little more, then suddenly, it's gone. Thinking it was okay, I flew up higher into the sky, and from where I am, I could see the arena. Majority of the audience held up binoculars, probably looking for me. _What a lack of excitement down there... _I tipped my broom down, and started my way back down to the arena, when suddenly, I hear another screeching roar. I look behind me, and saw something beautiful and dangerous, at the same time. Through the haze of the clouds, I could see bright red flames. I was dazed by its beauty that it was too late when I finally spotted my predator. It's big mouth was open, ready to shoot out fire that would engulf me. I shot out of the way, a little too late. The flames had my broom, and I crash landed onto the roof of one of the towers. The air was knocked out of my lungs, as I slammed against the roof. I wheezed, coughing. My back hurt, and so did my right elbow. My battered broom, though damaged, looked as if it would still let me survive this. But unfortunately, it was far away from me- as I was on top of the tower and it was on its ledge.

I see the dragon clumsily settling itself onto the tower, just above me. It seemed ridiculous, like watching a big, fat cat trying in vain to fit itself into a small box. But as I looked up at the dragon, as I caught sight of its eyes, I saw something unexpected. It looked just as scared as I am. _You never wanted to be here_, I thought. _Just like me_. Turning my back on all sanity, I struggled to stand up, and walked frigidly towards the dragon. It was no longer the ferocious dragon who wanted to burn me alive, it was just a dragon, wanting to go back to its home.

I raised my palms, and squeezed my eyes shut, and turned to look away- just in case I'm wrong, I didn't want to see it happen. I could hear the roof crumbling as it moved. I could picture it, opening its mouth, fire forming on the bottom of its throat. I could picture the flames, as it licked my skin... But instead, I felt something rough and scaly on my hand. Surprised, I open my eyes. I looked at it, and found my hand on its nuzzle. There was a strange look in its eyes, then all of a sudden, I was off the roof. Falling in the air, towards the ground. I closed me eyes, as I reach the end.


	7. Triumph & Loss

Draco's POV

I could feel the air rushing over my back. I could feel the air pressure clogging my ears. I could feel myself dropping, and I could see, in the back of my eyes, nothing but darkness. I've read from books that when you die, somehow, you would see your life flashing before your eyes. I keep waiting for it, for some kind of montage of me and the people I love and care about. But nothing comes. Just when I thought I was close to hitting the ground, there was a sound- a sound of a woman screaming. A painful and piercing scream. "Draco!"

It caused me to open my eyes, and I realize that I was no longer falling. Have I landed? Am I dead, or miraculously alive? Then I realized the rough surface underneath me. There were lumps and... scales? I wasn't on the ground, for I could still feel the pressure of the air surrounding me, with my hair hitting my eyes violently. Is that a wave I hear? I turn to look to my side, and see... wait, what? I sit up, and looked around me. The sudden movement threw me off balance, the wind easily flying me away. Luckily, I found something I could hold onto. It was like the tooth of the basilisk Harry had killed before. But it wasn't, it was the bronze horns protruding from the dragon's head. It must've caught me when I fell, and I fell onto its head. "Thanks, friend!" I shouted through the roaring wind. I could feel it grunt. I held on tighter onto its horn, and for some reason, enjoyed myself.

†††

"Where could he be?" Hermione asked to no one in particular. She's been muttering the same sentence for the past half hour, and it was starting to make Ron feel worse, and Harry even more worried. Ginny clutched Harry's hand tight, and he didn't seem to mind, so she didn't let go.

"Look!" said Luna Lovegood, pointing up at the sky. "It's the dragon!" From where they were, they saw the dragon approaching from afar. And it was all they could see. No sign of Draco yet.

"Oh no!" Ron gasped. He was on his feet, trembling. He looked as if he was going to cry, and Hermione linked her fingers with his. They were both on their feet, awaiting for any sign of the boy. The dragon landed into the arena, and laid flat on its belly, as if it was ready to sleep. Ron squinted as he saw something on top of its head. "Is that...?"

"Draco!" Hermione squealed in excitement, as Draco stood up from on top of the dragon's head and jumped down to the rocky ground. He walked confidently towards the clutch of eggs, and took the golden egg in his arm nonchalantly, as if no dragon existed. Hysterical laughter broke out of her lips. She couldn't contain the relief that came over her when she saw him, standing there, as confident as ever. She wrapped both her arms on Ron and Harry's shoulders. She broke away after a moment, and looked at Draco, as he triumphantly raised the egg in the air. The whole crowd cheered, and the dragon made a choking sound.

†††

Draco slid himself into the tub, full of foamy bubbles. The water was warm, and made his sore muscles feel good. He has momentarily stepped away from the party in the Slytherin Common Room. As expected, he was celebrated by everyone. He tied with Viktor Krum in the tournament, while Cedric Diggory was in second place and Fleur Delacour was in the last place. He was thrown into the air by the Slytherins, and his name ringed in his ears as they cheered. "Draco! Draco! Draco!" Fred had told him to open the egg and see what's inside. As he did, an ear-piercing screech came out of it. It made everyone's ears ring, and it made him dizzy. When he went out for some fresh air, Cedric walked up to him, and gave him a piece of advice. "Inside the Egg is a clue for the next Task," he said. "Open it under the water, Weasley." Cedric told him he could go to the prefect's bathroom if he wanted, and he did. Draco wasn't a prefect, and he though he never will be, with his reputation as a troublemaker and everything...

After a few moments in the water, he did as Cedric had instructed. He sank to the bottom of the tub with the Egg in his right hand, while he pinched his nose with his left hand. He was short of breath, and before he could open the Egg, he was up. He tried again, this time inhaling a huge amount of air. He went down, and opened the Golden Egg as fast as he could. There were small blobs of bubbles inside it, and there were soft, disembodied merpeople voices singing a song:

**_Come seek us where our voices sound,_**  
**_We cannot sing above the ground,_**  
**_And while you're searching ponder this;_**  
**_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_**  
**_An hour long you'll have to look,_**  
**_And to recover what we took,_**  
**_But past an hour, the prospect's black,_**  
**_Too late it's gone, it won't come back._**

_What could it possibly mean?_ he thought.

†††

Draco's POV

I always wanted to be popular. Always wanted to feel superior, like I was above everyone else. That for some reason, they would all look up to me, and be amazed by the mere sight of me. It was finally happening. Wherever I go, I hear my name. When I walk through the halls, I could hear girls giggling flirtatiously at the sight of me. And the boys would come up to me and act as if we've been friends for a real long time, even though I don't even know who they are. It was so different to how they treated me before- before the First Task... They've treated me cruelly. They gave me looks of disgust and hostility. They stayed away from me. They spread rumors about me, created theories on how I got my name into the Goblet, spoke rubbish of me. And now, it's as if those things haven't happened. Oh, what fame could do to you! What fame could give to you! I appreciate it, really, but no. I don't want these people. I don't want these fake people. They reek of desperation and desire, and it sickens me. Right now, the only people that I want are my brothers, and maybe Harry and Hermione, too.

"Hey there, Champ," it was a familiar cool voice, as cool as the snow underneath me, the cold wetness seeping through my robes, my scarf, onto my bare skin. I felt numb. I open my eyes, and found Fred looking down at me as he was leaning onto the trunk of the tree, which was clothed in snow. "Amazing show you put out there."

"_Amazing_? Man, I almost killed myself out there!" I get up, propping myself onto my elbows. I felt my elbows sink into the snow, but I didn't mind, not wanting to lose my cool in front of someone as cool as Fred.

"That's why it's amazing," he said. He laid down next to me. "It's cold down here! What are you doing here all alone, when the whole party is waiting for you?!"

"I just want to be alone," I said.

"No one wants that. No one ever wants to be alone, Draco," Fred said. I've never heard him like this, so serious. Usually, he's not the person to talk to in times like these, when you just want to be alone and sentimental. He's not the kind of guy who would be there for a heart-to-heart conversation. It's just not Fred. Fred is laughs and pranks and being carefree and reckless. Not serious and meaningful and deep.

"Maybe I do," I look up at him, and I see a smile spreading on his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes the way it used to. "What happened to you, Fred?" the question escaped my mouth before I could stop myself. Realizing that there was no return, I decide to clarify my question, but before I could, he was already answering. "I found myself," he said. He was looking down at the blank and white snow. He had on an expression I couldn't quite understand- there was a grim grin on his lips, he looked sad and triumphant at the same time, and he looked as if he was close to tears, but still, he seemed happy. "I found myself, my friends... I found where I belong, and I realized-" he took in a deep breath. "I realized that where I belong, you, my family, cannot follow. You're still young, Draco- How old are you?- 14? You're still young! So young, in fact, that I'm worried about you. Worried about you being in that Tournament-" he turned to look at me now, his eyes were dead serious, and somehow, it scared me. His voice dropped to a hush whisper. "This Tournament will be messy. You will see things that someone as young as you are not supposed to see nor experience. But when something happens, do not be afraid. Trust me, Draco. Do not be afraid. Everything will be okay. Just... just stay alive, okay?" I nodded. Somehow, I felt shaken. I realize that I'm trembling. If it was because of the snow or because of Fred, I would never know. A light smile tugged around the corners of his mouth, and suddenly, he was back to his old self again. "Now, let's go look for a date for the Yule ball!" He got up, and offered me a hand. I took it, and asked, "A date for the what?!"

"Oh, don't worry, little brother," he said, winking. "I'm pretty sure you're not going to have trouble finding one. Believe me, the moment you step out of the shade of this tree, all the girls would come to you!"

"No!" I said, pulling him back a bit. "I'm not worried about a date, I just... You said something about a Ball?"

"Yeah," he answered. "The Yule Ball. It's a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament. It's a formal dance held on the evening of Yule- tomorrow- of a tournament year! Only students of fourth year or above were permitted to attend, though younger students could also go if an older student invited them to accompany them. The ball begins at 8:00 p.m. and ends at midnight. Now... shall we?"

I shrugged, and follow him out of the shadows and into the faint sunlight. And he was right. There were a couple of girls who came to me, asking if I would go with them tomorrow. I declined politely to all of them. I could feel Fred's stare, and I know that he was wondering why I was saying no. It was because I already had someone else in mind. And as if the odds are really in favor of me right now, I see her. Through the crowd, I could make out her bushy brown hair and her soft brown eyes. As usual, she was seated alone- but not quite. She was never alone. She always had a book with her, and when she read, she lived in it. She lived inside the book, living the events, living and breathing the same air as the characters in it. She was out of this world when she read. Lost and oblivious. That's when she was most beautiful- when her eyes sparkled with wonder.

I move away from the crowd of people that formed around me, and made my way towards her, leaving Fred behind, because I knew he would make a snide remark about this. I went to sit next to her, but even when our shoulders were nearly touching, she was still oblivious to my existence. Impatient and nervous, I cleared my throat. "Hermione?" I said quietly. No response. "Hermione?" I reach out, and placed my hand on her shoulder, starting to gently shake her. She blinked several times, before she was finally here, in the real world. Upon realizing who I was, her face lit up. And surprisingly, she threw her arms around my neck. I had thought it was sweet for her to hug me, but then her gentle hug turned into a death grip.

"Oh, Draco, you have no idea how worried we were!" Just when I felt my throat starting to tighten, she breaks away. "Have you seen Ron? He's been looking for you!"

"He's been looking for me, really?" I asked, surprised.

"You still think he's mad at you, don't you?" a rueful smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "He was scared to death by the stunt you pulled a while ago. Scared all of us, in fact. But Ron... He looked as if he was going to kill himself if you didn't come back. You should probably go and look for him."

†††

The sky was dark. The moon wasn't visible, but the stars were enough to illuminate Harry's surroundings. His arms were under Ron's arm for support. Ron tried his best to walk, to not be a burden, but even as he tries to limp, his feet still hurt. There came a howl through the woods, and Harry could feel his heart beating faster and faster, and he wondered if Ron heard it.

"Harry, you go on ahead. Leave me behind," Ron said, taking his arm from Harry's neck.

Harry pulled Ron closer to him. The scent of blood, sweat and dust filled his nostrils. "No, Ron! I'll take you back to the castle, to Madam Pomfrey. We'll be safe, the two of us..."

"No, Harry, really," Ron pleaded. He was scared, but he didn't want to drag Harry along with his death.

"Ron!" Harry almost shouted. His voice was intense and angry, and it made Ron shut his mouth. "All you're doing is wasting time! Now, shut it so we could go back to the castle in time!" Ron shut his mouth, and let Harry drag him through the grass. It was silent, except for the sound of the both of them panting, and... the rustling of leaves. There was no wind that came by, so... why? The two boys looked behind them in horror, and found the beast with its piercing black holes of eyes hungrily stared at them. "I'm sorry, Ron," Harry said quietly. "But this is going to hurt-" and with that, he let go of Ron. He pushed Ron's chest hard enough to send him to the ground, rolling him a few meters away.

Ron bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to scream out loud and invite the predator's attention. He kept his hand on his bleeding leg. He didn't even know where the wound is anymore, but the blood kept on spilling. The events of the night was blurry to him, but he knew one thing- it was a mind-blowing revelation.

"Professor..." Harry said gently, in a soothing voice. He took deep and heavy breaths as he slowly raised his wand, just in case talking to the lycanthrope doesn't work. It didn't bat an eye, but instead, it hunched down, ready to lunge at the boy. "This is me. Harry. Harry Potter, remember? You... You were friends with my... my parents. Don't you remember them? Please, Professor, try. Try to remember."

The creature took a long and cold howl, then looked down at Harry with its eyes blazing with hunger and desire. He lunged himself on Harry, three of its claws from the right paw sunk into Harry's shoulder and he cringed in pain. He could smell the stinking breath of the lycanthrope and immediately feared for his life. "Remus! Harry!" it was a familiar voice, and it gave Harry reassurance. It was the voice of his last remaining family, the only person who actually knows the truth, other than Professor Lupin. It was Sirius Black. A few days ago, Harry had thought Sirius Black was the one who had betrayed and killed his parents, but no. He was framed. He was framed by the real killer, Peter Pettigrew, who had disguised himself as the Weasleys' family pet rat. They've all been fooled.

Sirius has turned into a big, black dog, which was his animagus. He ran towards Remus, tackling him off of Harry. He bit the lycan's side, and it howled in pain. It slashed its hand around, and scratched Sirius's side. He whimpered, but he didn't let go, his teeth still in Remus's skin. Meanwhile, Harry was still sprawled onto the ground, clutching his bleeding right shoulder. The scratch was deep, he could tell. Upon seeing his best friend, Ron took a deep breath and a great amount of courage. He crawled toward Harry, laying low, while the dogs continued tackling each other. "Harry," he whispered, gently squeezing his hand. "It's okay now. Can you stand up?" Harry nodded. "Let's go?" Harry nodded again. He tried to get up, clenching his teeth as he felt the searing pain.

Just as he looked up, he saw the lycan throw Sirius onto the ground with a death blow. Sirius was back in his human form. He laid there, as the air was knocked out of his lungs. He thought it was an imagination, just a simple delirious hallucination, but there was a flash of free light behind the lycan that towered over him. And in a second, the creature was down. Right next to him. He took a deep breath as he replayed what happened in his mind. He looked to his side, and found the lycanthrope finally returning back into Remus. He lay on the ground in his stomach, but his face was turned at Sirius. Slowly, his black eyes turned back to his human soft, green eyes. They were wide open, and that was it. There were no light in them, but there was a different look to it, as if he were at peace. His eyes bored into Sirius's, and he gulped. Tears formed in his eyes as he realized what had happened. It wasn't a hallucination, it was real. Someone had struck Remus with the Killing Curse.

†††

Harry's POV

Everything happened so fast, but as if in slow motion. I know it doesn't make sense. I watched as the wolf- Professor Lupin, slowly crumpled down and fell next to Sirius. I watched as his lycanthropic features turned back to his human features. I didn't see his chest rise and fall. Or was I too far? I'm not really sure what's happening, but I see Sirius getting up from where he laid. His face was contorted into a pained expression. He pushed Remus, so that he was finally lying on his back. His body was still._ Why isn't he moving? _

Through the silence of the night, I heard Sirius take in a sharp breath. Then I watched as his shoulders started to shake, his whole body starting to jerk. I hear sobs, and I wonder why. Why was he crying? He pressed his hand onto his friend's chest. He doesn't do anything, just rests it over Remus's heart. He's crying, I see it now. "Ron, why is he crying?" I asked, still confused.

Ron put his hand on my non-injured shoulder. "Professor Lupin is dead."

I look up at him, disbelieving. The sudden movement caused a surge of electricity through my right shoulder, and I flinched. "What?! How?"

"I don't know, Harry," he said grimly. He didn't look at me. He just stared at them. "It just happened."

I turned to look at where he was looking, at Sirius and the still body in front of him. He lost his calm and was now pounding on Remus's chest. I wonder what Ron sees. Does he see the same thing I see? Does he see us in another world, where one of us dies, and the other cries? Does he me in Remus's dead body, the way I see him in it? I think about being in Sirius's position. To see my best friend just die in front of me. To see him slowly crumple next to me, to see his chest drop and not rise. I feel tears welling up in my eyes. That can't happen. I can't see a world without my best friend in it. A world without Ron Weasley is a world I wouldn't want to live in.

There was the sound of rustling leaves, and I look behind me. I see people, rushing over to us. Their faces were full of alarm. They don't know. They have no idea what was happening. They don't know that there is a man weeping over the death of his comrade. They don't know about the things they've gone through, the adventures they had, the tricks they used to do. There used to be four of them. There were three of them when one decided to turn his back on his friends. Two when one was killed, along with his wife, while his son lived and carried on. One when one of the only two remaining died for an unknown reason. There is only one. There was only Sirius. I feel sorry for him. He's all alone now, living in a world his friends had departed. And for a moment, I see it. I see him as a kid, running around the castle along with Remus and Peter... and my dad. They were so happy, carrying their wands and swishing them around, causing a revolutionary chaos. They defied the rules, and lived by the laws they created for themselves. They lived in their own little sanctuary... and the sanctuary broke. Because now, there's only one.


	8. Mourning

With each step I take, the stairs make a creaking sound. It was painful to the ears, given that it was silent and it only made every bit of sound louder than it has to be. It also amplified the sound of my heart beating. I could feel my pulse rising as I reach the top of the staircase. The staircase, like the house, was old and rickety. The banister was dusty and could splinter you with one touch. Everywhere I look, every corner, every space, was filled with dust. And it was dark, except for the light coming out of the room to my right, which was opened slightly. I could hear voices, whispering and hissing. And above the whispers and hisses, there was a voice, hoarse but cold, weak but powerful at the same time. I knew it was Him. This is the first time that I would see Him, and it felt as if my heart would jump out of my chest and run away from me.

"There you are, boy!" said a man. I don't know who he is, but he obviously knows me. I gulp, and tried to act as if this was just a normal day, with me hanging out with my normal friends. But that's a big lie. Nothing's ever been normal ever since that day. The day I made my decision. I took a few confident steps forward, toward the man. He was kneeling in front of an armchair, and had ignored me. From where I stood, I could see him talking to the armchair. If I hadn't known better, that's what I would have thought- that he was talking to the armchair. I would have laughed with... never mind. This is not the time to think about him.

I grew closer, and found something I wasn't expecting. There was something gruesome and disgusting placed onto the seat, wrapped around a cloth, so that I could only see its head. Was it supposed to be a baby? Its head was more like a skull. It had eyes, but it was as if they were closed. "Don't just stand there! Bow to Him! Give grace to the Dark Lord!" ordered the other man. His voice was raspy and angry. Before I could kneel down the way he did, the thing- the Dark Lord said, "Now, now, Bartemius... Calm yourself... He's just a boy, new member. He doesn't know anything. Not yet." His voice was weak and surprisingly, he sounded kind.

"Forgive me, my Lord," said the man whose name turned out to be Bartemius. He turned to me, "The Dark Lord wants to talk to you." He got up and grabbed me by the collar, and forced my knees to bend, and causing me to fall right in front of the arm chair. The impact on my knees were painful, as if it left a crack on my bones. I cringed.

"Oh boy, so young, so beautiful, so full of wonder," the Dark Lord said. "Tell me... with the events of tonight, will everything still go as planned?"

I gulped, and blinked multiple times. I tried not to stutter as I spoke. "My Lord, if the old man isn't fazed enough to cancel the Tournament, then everything must go as you wish. But-"

"Ah," he said with wonder. "_But!_ I hate that word... It gives a negative to the positive. Continue."

"_But_ there's a great possibility that he might cancel it. Under the circumstances, I believe that Dumbledore would think it would not be safe for students to continue. Stray curses are something that doesn't happen too often. It would only mean that... _We_ are back."

"And Potter?"

"I believe they would tighten security around him, knowing that he's the most essential piece of this puzzle."

"Hogwarts, especially that old man Dumbledore, would be stricken with surprise when we strike, I tell you." there was glee in his voice. "We will strike when they least expect it, we will target the person they least expect to be a target. Bring him to me."

"As you wish, my Lord," I said, taking a bow. I stepped up, and headed for the door, but he stopped me. "Not right now, dear boy. You humor me too much! In time, boy, in time. But not now."

On my way out of the manor, I bump into someone- or someone bumps into me. I take a step back and see a man and woman. The one I bumped into was the woman. They were dressed in lavish robes, their hair all fixed up, but still... In their eyes, in the way that they carry themselves... I see. I still see the pain they endured when they were locked up in Azkaban. The woman gasped at the sight of me. "Draco! You have him! Where is he?"

"Your son is safe, Narcissa," I say as calmly as I could. "He's in Hogwarts, in the care of the headmaster. Now don't fret, you'll be together soon."

†††

Draco woke up to an earthquake. He bolted upright, clutching his blanket to his chest. He was ready to jump out of bed, and gather all his things... But it wasn't an earthquake. It was just Fred, shaking him awake. "Blimey, 'smatter with you? Been having nightmares?"

Draco pushed Fred off of his bed, and returned back under his blankets, but before he could go back to sleep, Fred had him by the collar, pulling him up. His face wasn't bashful anymore, but serious. He was dead serious that Draco finally decided to know why his brother woke him. "What's happened?"

"Ron is at the hospital wing," Fred's voice was grim, and so was his eyes. Without further explanation, the two of them bolted out of the Slytherin Common Room and out into the hallways. Their hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor. They breathed heavily, panting as they ran. They ran on their bare feet, and even when it started aching, they didn't stop. It was Ron. In the hospital wing. How can they stop, knowing that their brother was hurt? Draco tried to look for him when Hermione had told him to, but the other Slytherins had spotted him, and got him back into the party.

They neared the hospital wing, seeing the big doors that were shut. They threw them open, and found Ginny and George. Ginny was seated at the foot of Ron's bed, and George sat on Harry's. Ron's leg was bandaged and was hanging in the air, with no strings attach. He was asleep- they both were. There were gashes on their faces, but somehow, asleep, they looked peaceful. "What... happened?" Draco asked, in between breaths.

"They were attacked by a werewolf," George answered.

Fred's face contorted in confusion. "A werewofl?! For Merlin's sakes, how was there a werewolf?!"

"It was Professor Lupin, wasn't it?" it was Hermione. She entered the room, still in her nightgown. Her hair was tied back in a neat bun, and she walked calmly and confidently towards them. She stopped in between the foot of their beds. "Oh my-" she turned to George. "Where's the professor?"

"I see that everyone's here," it was Dumbledore who spoke, standing by the door, all looking at them with concern. But there was something in his eyes, they were guarded, for some reason. "I believe you all deserve an explanation." He took a deep breath, and walked to the empty bed closest to the children. He sat there, and patted his long beard, before he rested his hands on his lap. There was pity and sympathy in his eyes. "Professor Lupin is a lycanthrope. . ." and he went on, telling them how Remus came to be. Dumbledore told them about Remus's sufferings- emotionally and mentally- told them about his monthly Transformation, and how he wanted to help Remus, so he took the lycanthrope into Hogwarts, hoping to keep him in one of the chambers and lock him up. But things had gone wrong this year. Sirius Black, the man who was sent to Azkaban for all the wrong accusations, has come back to explain himself to Harry, and to avenge his friends' deaths from Peter Pettigrew, who had disguised himself as Scabbers. Then... it happened. Just like that. Remus Lupin turned into his animal self and lost control of his mind and body. He was a werewolf; he didn't know about friends, he knew about hunger and food and eating in order to survive. He was a predator. He knocked Sirius out, and when Sirius awoke, Remus was all over Harry. Sirius didn't want to kill Remus, just injure him to get him away from the children. But then there was a stray curse, and it... it hit Remus, and... he was gone. He was dead. And there was nothing else anyone could do.

"But how do you know all this, professor?" Draco asked, when Dumbledore was finished.

"Sirius told me," the old man answered.

"And you believe him?" it was Fred. He looked at Dumbledore as if he was being silly and ridiculous. "You believe a man who had escaped Azkaban, imprisoned for 12 years?!"

"And why wouldn't I, Mr. Weasley?" countered Dumbledore. He hasn't lost his calm, but everyone could see that his eyes were ablaze. It's a tough night; he's lost a friend of his- maybe they weren't as close as friends, but Remus saw Dumbledore as his father, and maybe the old man saw Remus as his son.

For once, the children saw Dumbledore for who he was. He was wise and great, yes. But that didn't mean he wasn't like everyone else. He was only human, after all. He felt pain and vulnerability the way everyone does. And this was one of the moments where he was in pain and he was vulnerable. He's old and his eyes are heavy with all he's seen. How sad must it be, to continue on living when almost all of your friends were gone, was that how Sirius was feeling now?

Harry stirred. He made a choking sound from his throat, and his eyes were suddenly wide open. He gasped, taking in every ounce of breath he could get. Dumbledore looked down at him, and made his way near the boy. "What is it, my boy?"

Harry looked up at him, wide-eyed. He looked scared. "Did you have a nightmare, Harry?" Hermione asked. He shook his head, "No. At least, it didn't look like a nightmare. It felt... real. It looked real, as if it was a... a _vision_."

"A vision of what, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. He was serious and focused. Whatever Harry saw, he knew it was important.

"A skull. A skull and a snake coming out of its mouth. Jets of green light, and wizards. Wizards in black, wizards with masks. I also heard cries. Loud, piercing screams-" he stopped himself, and decided to breathe. He looked horrified. "Professor, have I gone mental?"

Dumbledore's lips curled into a smile, but it was Draco who answered. "You've always been mental, Potter." He said with a light laugh. Harry managed a chuckle, but grimaced as he felt the pain on his right shoulder.

"I guess I'll leave you kids," said Dumbledore, heading for the door. "There's a ceremony... for Professor Lupin tomorrow." They all nodded.

Before Dumbledore was gone, Harry called, "Professor! Sirius! Sirius is innocent! Don't let them take him back to Az-"

"He's safe, Harry," said the old man, gently. "But he's grieving. If you want to see him, he's in his friend's room." and he was gone. The children was left to themselves.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Ginny asked.

Harry nodded. "Ron?" He looked to his side, at Ron, whose skin was pale with the amount of blood he lost.

"He's okay," George answered.

"I'm pretty sure he'll just snore the night away," said Fred. And for a moment, there it was- the connection between him and his twin. They were laughing, when everyone in the room was silent. They shared their thoughts, their humor. And they were lost inside their madness, drowning the pain with laughter. But it was only for a moment. Because after those blissful three minutes, they didn't speak to each other anymore.

"I don't snore!" Ron said weakly, after a few minutes of awkward silence. He stirred in his bed, and his eyes fluttered open. He grimaced as he felt the pain in his leg, and bit the inside of his cheek instead of crying out in pain. Before he was put to sleep by Madam Pomfrey, he promised himself that he would never cry out in pain again. He wouldn't show weakness in the most pathetic circumstances. He would be strong. Like Sirius. Like Harry. Like Draco. "Draco!" he almost jumped out of bed as he saw his platinum blonde brother. Draco's eyes lit up, and immediately went over to him. "You won! You won, Draco! You totally kicked that dragon's arse!"

"And you let a werewolf kick yours!" he said in turn, jokingly. But it was too late by the time that he realized his joke wasn't an appropriate one. The room fell into silence.

"Are you okay, Ron?" Hermione asked, feeling the uneasiness as the mention of Professor Lupin's alter ego.

Ron's gaze drifted to Hermione, as if he hadn't noticed that she was there before. He thought he was beautiful, with her hair tied up neatly, so that they weren't covering her face. She wore the black Hogwarts robe beneath, probably, her night gown. Ron gulped. "Of course I am." Because you're here now, he wanted to add, but he didn't. Draco saw the sparkle in Ron's eyes as he looked at Hermione. What is this? he wondered. Could it be...?

"We haven't officially met, have we, Harry?" it was Fred. He walked over to Harry's bed, and shooed Ginny. She looked spitefully at her older brother, but did as he asked. She stood next Hermione.

Harry nodded. "No, we haven't." It was true. Fred had never met Harry, and Harry had never met Fred. Yes, they would see each other in the hallways- but they avoided each other, avoided getting to know each other. When Harry would come over at the Weasleys' for half of the vacation, Fred would either be out with his own friends or locked up in his room. There was an uneasiness between them. Even though he wore the same face as George, Harry could never bring himself to look into Fred's eyes. Fred was darker shade than George, from the inside. Harry could feel it, and it intimidated him.

"Children, you best be off to bed now," it was Madam Pomfrey, rushing back into the room. She had momentarily stepped away to give them time for themselves, but it was now over. "It's getting late." The children filed out of the room- Hermione, Ginny and George went towards the Gryffindor Tower, while Draco and Fred went the other way down to the Slytherin Dungeon.

†††

Light poured in from small openings from the gray clouds. Sirius watched from the window of Remus's- of what used to be Remus's room. There were people gathered in the field. He still couldn't believe it. He watched Remus laying down, peacefully, with both his hands on his chest. _No_, he told himself. _That's just a body. Remus is somewhere else. _

He raised his arm to the wall, and leaned into it, crying. His body shook as he sobbed. He wanted to stop. If they were here, James and Remus and maybe even Peter, they would laugh at him. For crying. "Sirius?" he didn't need to turn around to see who it was. He recognized the sympathetic voice, and knew immediately that it was Dumbledore. When Sirius didn't answer, he waited patiently. He kept quiet, waiting for Sirius to calm. He was still a boy, anyway. He acts strong and confident, as if he could carry the whole world on his shoulders. But that's the thing. He was already carrying the world on his shoulders- from the moment James told him, from the moment he was framed, from those years in Azkaban... But still, he was just a boy. And the world far too heavy for a little boy's shoulders.

"I can't take this, professor!" he said in between sobs. "I CAN'T!" he punched the wall over and over again. His hands were in so much pain that they were starting numb, but he doesn't stop. Not even when his knuckles bled. "No... no... no..."

"I don't expect you to be okay, Sirius... I don't expect you to be able to handle this situation. I know you can't," Dumbledore's words weren't comforting, and they weren't meant to be. Dumbledore was wise. He would tell you what you need to hear, even if it's not what you want to hear. "And I don't expect you to move on. And I know you would never be able to move on." Because it's true. Dumbledore has lived many years, has fought duels and deadly battles. He had seen his friends and his comrades die. He knows what Sirius is going through. "First, James... Now, Remus..."

"Stop! I don't want to hear it!" Sirius shouted. "Don't you think I'm aware of that? Don't you think it's not what I think to myself every minute of every hour, from the past 12 years up to this point!" He took in a deep breath, and instead of exhaling, it came out as another series of sobs.

"Do you think they'd like to see you this way?"

"Who cares what they think?" Sirius lowered his voice. He was no longer sobbing, but his voice still wavered. He looked out the window, at the big fire engulfing Remus's body. He was gone now. His skin, his flesh, it would all be ashes in a matter of seconds. And the memories hidden in his head, in his heart, would they disintegrate like his body, or fly away in the wind like his ashes? "They're dead. What they think no longer matters... They're gone! _All of them_! They've already abandoned me!"

"The ones who love us never really leave us," Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, as familiar words come from Dumbledore's lips. "You can always find them... in here. You know who I heard that from?" Sirius didn't answer, and neither did he open his eyes. Because he knew that if he opened his eyes, the tears would come pouring out again. "I heard it from you, Sirius. You told that to Lily. When both her parents died... You and the rest of the Marauders had been so strong for her..."

"Are you here just to torment me?"

"No, Sirius. I'm here to remind you. To remind you that you're the only one remaining. To remind you that you have to be strong. Not for yourself, but for the boy. For Harry." Sirius heard Dumbledore's footsteps fading, and he knew that he was gone. That he was all alone again.

_For Harry_.

†††

"Professor?" Snape emerged from the shadows of Dumbledore's office.

"Severus," said Dumbledore. "Everything is good... For now. With Sirius back, you no longer have to split up your attention. You can guard Draco, and Draco alone, as Sirius will now take care of Harry."

"But I insist, professor," Snape argued.

"I know you care about the both of them, Severus. But you have to understand... The Dark Lord could easily attack the other when your attention is divided..."


	9. Rebirth

Draco felt the wind rushing against his back. The thunderous sound of air deafening his ears. He opens his eyes, and sees the world in motion, going in circles, the way you might see when you're inside the washing machine. The rotation started to make him dizzy, and everywhere he looked were the same fluffy-looking white clouds. From the corner of his eye, he sees Harry. Harry was upside down in midair, with his eyes closed. He was unconscious, and upon seeing, Draco swims in the air towards Harry. He takes Harry's hand, and his green eyes open wide. "Neville!" he shouts.

Draco looked around, confused, and found Neville, struggling in the air. He was awkwardly flapping his arms as if they were wings. Draco tried to get to him, but he hears a loud, piercing scream. It was the same scream he heard when he was falling from the sky during the First Task. "Draco!" He looked around, but couldn't see where the voice came. Then the world shook violently...

Draco bolted up, gasping for air. He sees a man staring down at him. It was only a silhouette, but he caught sight of its bulging artificial blue eye. "Mad-Eye, you scared me!" he whispered. _What an unpleasant thing to wake up to._

"Seems like you're awake," Mad-Eye said gruffly.

"What's the matter? Is everything okay?" he asked, suddenly conscious of his surroundings. It was dark, but he could make out the silhouetted forms of his fellow Slytherins. They slept soundly.

"Professor Dumbledore summons all the Champions," Mad-Eye answered. "Says he has a special announcement."

Draco was up in no time, fixing himself up. He put on a dark sweater that Molly had knitted for him- Molly knitted a sweater for each of her child, with their initials in it- and pants. But Mad-Eye didn't give him enough time to fix his hair, and almost dragged him out to the corridors. There was a throbbing pain where Mad-Eye held Draco, on his arm. "Could you loosen up a bit, old man?"

"No time to loosen up, boy! Now, walk faster!" the older man barked. His voice was booming yet quiet at the same time, as if he was cautious of someone hearing them. Draco sensed something wrong, but kept quiet. There was a sickening sensation in his stomach, and tasted bile at the back of his throat. He then realized that they were going off campus. His feet was bare, and he felt the cold, damp grass and bits of rocks on his feet. Where were they going?

"Mad-Eye, I thought we were supposed to go at Dumbledore's Office?" he inquired. He was starting to feel sick. Beads of cold sweat started to form on his forehead and on the palms of his hands. The man didn't answer. "Mad-Eye!" he demanded. He planted his heels on the ground, but the man effortlessly pulled him along anyway, creating a searing pain in his feet. He tugged his arm back, and successfully, it slipped from Mad-Eye's grip.

"Come here, you prat!" he barked.

Draco took a few steps backward. "Not until you tell me what's going on!" His face then grimaced as he witnessed the horror of seeing Mad-Eye's face contort. The skin on his face started to loosen, as it seemed. His cheekbones moved under his skin. It was a sickening view. He could hear the sound of crackling bones. Mad-Eye's head shrunk, and in a matter of seconds, he was no longer Mad-Eye. He was a different man, a man Draco has never seen. There was something in the man's eyes- they were full of life, full of energy, and full of hunger. He was ecstatic. It scared Draco. He took a few steps back, then whirled around and started out on a sprint.

"Scared, boy?!" the man called out. "Don't you want to see your parents?!"

Upon hearing the word, Draco stopped. He looked over his shoulder, at the man who wasn't Mad-Eye. "Don't you dare touch my parents!"

"Hm? Oh, the Weasleys? Oh, of course not. I wasn't talking about them, anyway... I was talking about your real parents, Draco, the _Malfoys_." he spat out the name.

In that moment, Draco felt lost. He knew that he wasn't alone, that Mad-Eye- or not Mad-Eye- was there with him, but still, he felt as though he was alone. _Parents_... _Malfoys_... _What?!_ He was no longer on the grounds of Hogwarts. He was in oblivion, all he could see was pitch black darkness as though he had his eyes closed. His stomach churned, and he felt a punning in his head. He felt frustrated. He felt numb. What was happening? He doesn't understand. When he was a kid, all he wanted was to know who his real parents were, and now, here was a man, dragging him out to see them.

In the darkness, two figures pop out. A man and a woman, wearing black robes. He looked at their backs, as they weren't facing him. "Mom? Dad?" was that his voice? He couldn't feel his mouth open, couldn't feel his lips forming words, but there they were. His voice, his words. But it sounded distorted, as though he was at the bottom of the ocean.

Upon hearing his voice, the two figures turn around to face him. He braced himself, he felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks. His hands clenched into fists. There they were, his parents, turning around to face him, and he wants to run towards them and throw his arms around their shoulders. But he couldn't move. His feet were planted onto the ground. And his parents were turning in very slow motion. When they finally faced him, he saw that they were faceless. "Draco..." the woman said softly. But it's over. Draco's sight was blurring, and he felt his knees give in. It was all in his head.

†††

Draco's eyelids fluttered, as he came back to consciousness, though he still hadn't opened his eyes. They felt heavy. He heard someone scream, but this time it wasn't a woman. It was a boy, and it was familiar. What had previously happened had finally hit him. _Parents. _He opened his eyes, and the lights blinded him. He lowered his eyelids, and let his eyes get used to the brightness. Once his vision was in focus, he realized that the light wasn't too bright at all, instead it was barely there. He opened his eyes all the way, and there it was again. The scream. He sat up and realized that he had been laying on the grass. But he was no longer in Hogwarts, nor oblivion. He was in... an unfamiliar place. There were tablets and gargoyles and big... _Is this a cemetery? Am I in a cemetery?!_ He looked around, frantic.

He saw hooded figures, gathered around a big cauldron. It was foggy, and he couldn't see clearly, but he saw those figures- they were masked, and they didn't look like they were salvation. There came another scream. Whats happening? Finally, the fog cleared and there he saw it. Harry, standing by another dark figure. Wait... a statue? Yes, it must be. A statue of... the grim. But he wasn't just standing there, the grim held him by the throat. He was screaming his head off, but no one does anything.

"Harry!" The name didn't come from Draco's lips, though he had intended to say it. But instead, it came from a boy who was running towards Harry. A familiar boy, whom Draco didn't know that well, but he's seen him. The boy was a Gryffindor.

There was a jet of light, and a swoosh as it slashed through the wind. He fell, face down on the grass. _What's happening? What's the three of us doing here?_ Draco thought.

"Seems like they're all awake," someone says. All the hooded figures turn to face Draco. He looked back at them, frozen with fear. One of them advanced toward him, moving like the shadows. It walked toward him, with its hand held out towards him. "Draco," a woman's voice gasped. "Oh, Draco," and the figure fell to its knees right in front of the boy. Its gloved hand reached out, but its hand hovered. One of its hands covered the mouth of its mask.

"Who are you?" he asked, looking around. "And what's happening?"

"Oh, dear boy," said a cool voice, which sent shivers down Draco's spine. "Draco, is it? Let me introduce myself-" the hooded figure in front of Draco was pushed away by an invisible force, revealing an entirely different creature standing above him. The creature was a man with pale white skin, a skeletally thin body underneath a black hooded cloak, and dark scarlet eyes with cat-like slits for pupils. He had a chalk-white face which reminded Draco of a skull, snake-like slits for nostrils, and long, thin hands with unnaturally long fingers like spider's legs. The mere sight of him sent chills through the boy's body. "My name is Voldemort." he smiled, showing his yellowing teeth. Voldemort. It took a moment before Draco realized where he had heard that name. Voldemort. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

He gasped, and moved away. "Now, now, there's no need to fret," the man who turned out to be Voldemort said, chuckling. "I want to explain myself, especially to you, my _heir_..." He held out his creepy hands. "Come with me." Afraid, Draco gulped. But he obliged. He took Voldemort's hand, went with him. They entered a dark mausoleum and disappeared from everyone's view.

"Dracoooo!" Harry screamed. The scythe of the statue that held him back pushed against the scars on his right shoulder, and there was a new pain on his forearm, when they took his blood to... perform a gruesome ritual to form that gruesome creature. Harry screamed in frustration. He tried fighting the restraint, even when he knew better than to fight the strength of a stone statue.

"Shut your trap, Potter!" a woman hissed. It was one of them, the hooded figures, the Death Eaters. She waved her wand over her mask, and it vanished, revealing her face. She was a woman with long, thick shiny dark hair, thin lips, heavily-lidded eyes with long eyelashes, and a strong set jaw. Her eyes were dark, and she reeked of bloodlust. "How's mum and dad? Oh," she looks behind her, seeing the other boy, Neville. He still laid on the ground, heaving. "That goes for you, too, Longbottom. Neville, is it? Oh boy, you should've seen their faces. When I tortured them..." then she broke out into a hysterical laugh, which echoed through the night.

"About to be avenge!" he rose to his feet, took the wand out of his pocket, and cried, "Stupefy!" But the spell backfired, sending him flying back. He hit the bark of a tree, knocking the air out of his lungs. He fell to the ground, once again, facedown.

"What do you want from us?" Harry asked. His voice was growing weak and turning hoarse.

"And why would we tell you?" a man asked. Harry said no more, for he knew he'd only be wasting his effort. He knew better than to hope that these Death Eaters are as gullible as the people he hang out with. Suddenly, he thought of them, his friends. Ron, Hermione, Draco... The others, too. All of them. What was the last time he said to Ron? What if it was the last thing he would ever say to him? And to Hermione? Draco... what's happening with him? He would't even be able to tell Ginny... No. He absent-mindedly shook his head. He won't die here. Not here, not now. Plus, it would be sort of depressing to die in a graveyard, don't you think?

And at that, a bright light shot out, as if the sun rose out of the blue. Things happened too fast. There was a swirl of light and dark, black and white. Everyone saying something all at the same time. It confused Harry, made him dizzy. His ears buzzed, and his sight was growing fuzzy, even though he had his glasses on. He closed his eyes, waiting for the commotion to end. It seemed like it took forever before all the shouts and cries died down to just rustling footsteps. "James!" someone yelled, and for a moment, with excitement and disbelief and delight and hope, Harry opened his eyes. For some reason, he had expected his father, though impossible, to show up. But when he opened his eyes, the person he saw was Sirius. It was good to see him, of course, but the thing is, he had expected. And along with that expectation was disappointment.

Sirius came rushing to him. He held out his wand, and destroyed the statue. As the ground welcomed Harry, Sirius caught him in his arms. He propped the boy up, and looked at him. Holding him by the chin, and tilting his head from side to side. Finally, after his inspection, he cupped Harry's face in his hands. "Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?"

Harry shook his head. "No... but Sirius, he's back. Because of me. I brought him back."

But Sirius wasn't listening. Harry was okay, and that's all that mattered... To him, at least. "I thought I've lost you, too." He hugged the boy closer to him.

Behind Sirius, Harry could see familiar faces and faces he has never seen before. Some of them rushed to Neville, who was still unconscious due to his own spell. Sirius finally broke away, and looked to where Harry was looking. "They- actually, we... We are the Order of the Phoenix."

"The what?" Harry asked.

"The Order of the Phoenix," he repeated. "We're a secret society founded by Dumbledore himself to oppose the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. We were idle for awhile, because he was gone... But now, I guess we're back to business."

"Harry!" It was Arthur Weasley, looking delighted to see Harry. But his smile turned upside down, asking, "Where's Draco?"

"He's inside," Harry said, pointing at the mausoleum. "Voldemort took him in there. I couldn't stop him, I-" But it was too late. Before he could say more, Arthur was on his way to rescue his son. Harry wanted to come with him, to look for Draco, but he couldn't move. He was tired. But still, the question that had been swirling in his head came out of his mouth, involuntarily. "Why the three of us, Sirius?"

The older man looked back from Harry to the rest of the Order, as if trying to make a decision. He sighed, he has decided. "Harry," he said, putting his hand lightly on the boy's shoulder. "Do you know why... Voldemort tried to kill you?" The boy shook his head, indicating for Sirius to continue. "There was a prophecy. That a boy born at the end of July... would be the one to defeat Him."

"So, it's me," said Harry, understanding. "but why the two of them, Draco and Neville. Why not just me?"

"There were two of you, Harry. You and Neville were both born at the end of July. Voldemort took his chances by seeking one of you out, and he decided that it was_ you_, the son of two of the most remarkable wizards of all time."

"That explains the two of us... Why Draco? Voldemort said something about Draco being his heir... Is that it?"

Sirius smirked. "I don't know about the heir thing. I would have to report that to Dumbledore... But this I know, Harry. Draco was found by Molly and Arthur in late September. So everyone had assumed that he was born sometime in August. They pinpointed it in the calendar, made up his own birthday... It wasn't until recently that we found out, for sure that he was also born at the last day of July. I know who his parents are, Harry, we all do. My guess was that Voldemort planned to use him, kill Neville, and use you. But now that you tell me about him being an heir..."

"Use him? Use me? Kill Neville?"

"Well," Sirius let out an exasperated sigh. "Neville is still a threat to him. And of course, you are too. You're the boy who lived, after all. He used you to be reborn, right? Used your blood. And after he used you, I was thinking he's going to kill you, too. And as for Draco... Like I said, I know who his parents are, and they've been very useful to Voldemort. Voldemort's planning to turn Draco into of them. Like his parents. Death Eaters."

Before Harry could say anything else, the doors of the mausoleum busted open. Out came Arthur Weasley, with Draco's arm draped across his shoulders. Draco was bloody.

"I don't understand," Sirius gasped. "Why would Voldemort try to kill him?"

Harry made a choking sound as he caught sight of the blood on the front Draco's sweater, smudging the big white D. He ran towards them, and helped Arthur. Harry took Draco's arm across his shoulders, and tried his best to half-carry and half-drag him. The smell blood was stuck in Harry's nostrils. "Draco?" The platinum blonde boy's eyes were closed, but he was breathing... heavily. "Draco, stay with me, buddy."

†††

"Last night it was Harry and Ron, tonight it's Harry and Draco," said Hermione, as she rushed into the hospital wing. Her skin was pale with worry, and dark circles formed under her eyes. "You really are the Troublesome Three."

"It's not our fault trouble has a bad habit of stalking us," Harry smirked.

"Spare me your sass, Mr. Potter," replied Hermione. They were all laughing- except Draco, who was still unconscious. Hermione walked to his bed, and sat next to him. She placed her hand on his cold one. She looked over at him with worried eyes. Without thinking, her hands move up to his forearm, to his shoulders, to his pale cheeks... And finally, her hand rested on his bandaged chest.

"Hermione," it was Ron. He didn't know why he called her. Actually, he does. He was jealous, but he didn't want to say that, of course. So he had to come up with a lame excuse. "Uuhhh... Could you please hand me this lemonade?" he said, reaching out to touch the handle of his mug.

"Ron, you already got it," Hermione said.

"_Igh_!" Ron cried out, though it was obviously fake. He withdrew his arm, and looked longingly at the mug of lemonade. Hermione giggled softly, and went over to him. She handed him the lemonade, and he smiled at her. He didn't know how long she stood there, looking down at him as if she wanted to say something. They just looked at each other, awkwardly smiling, holding each other's gaze.

"Ron..." she said his name softly. He liked the way his name sounded when it came from her lips. She blindly placed her hand on top of his. "Get better, okay."

She then turned to Harry, stepping away from Ron and the confusion he brings to her. He confuses her in ways she doesn't understand. He confuses her the same way Draco does... It's not logical. And maybe it's because the answer isn't found in her brain, or in any book in the library... maybe its inside her chest cavity, in her beating heart. She cleared her throat, and at the same time, cleared her mind. "Is He really back, Harry?"

Harry nodded. _He's back_.

* * *

**_Hey guys, I believe I haven't been writing decent chapters lately. So sorry. As you all know, summer is almost here, so the past few weeks in school were just sooooo stressing. But tomorrow's the last day, and hopefully, I'd be able to update. :))) Thanks for reading. Hope you liked it._**

**_Oh, and I know Draco isn't born at the end of July, but y'know... Just for the sake of keeping this fix going... ;)_**


	10. Ball

"Taking into consideration the events of the past two nights, I think it would be better to stop the Tournament," said Dumbledore, calmly. His blue eyes bore into each of the Champions'.

"But would there be a Yule ball, at least?" asked Cedric Diggory.

"I'll think about it, Mr. Diggory," answered the old man. He sounded tired, but still, his blue eyes stayed as calm as the sea. "I'll just have to announce all the details of the sudden change of plans tomorrow night, at the Great Hall."

"Professor Dumbledore?" it was Fleur Delacour, with her voice so soft and so sweet. "Is it true that... that h- that-"

"I believe Miss Delacour is referring to the Dark Lord," said Viktor Krum. He was stern as always, with his back straight as though he was better than everyone else. But the eagerness in his voice showed.

"Sadly, yes," Dumbledore looked down at his desk. "Now, I believe it's way past your bedtime. I apologize for keeping you up late. I'll see you all tomorrow." The Champions retreated, but their teachers stayed back. Igor Karkaroff stepped closer to Dumbledore. "So... it was Bartemius, all along?" he asked, his voice as deep as the ocean, and as cold, too.

Dumbledore nodded, regretfully. "Where's the real Alastor, then?" it was Barty Crouch, the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, the father of the alleged impostor. "Is it true? Is he really back?" he asked hastily as he entered the office.

"Yes... along with your son, apparently." answered Igor, bitterly. Crouch looked up at him spitefully, but yet, helplessly. He knew the man was right, that his son was the villain in this situation. And he accepted that fact. He threw out his own son when he found out Barty Jr. had joined the dark side. But still, he was his son. He was his blood, his flesh... "Blimey..." was all he could say. "The Tournament?" he looked up at Dumbledore.

"Is cancelled, for good measure," answered the old man. "One of the Champions is under inspection due to the recent events..."

"Is it the Malfoys' child?" asked Barty Crouch.

"Kill him before he lets the Dark Lord strengthen him," suggested Karkaroff. He spoke of killing a child as if it was normal, as if it was something he did on a daily basis.

"We can't kill him, Professor Dumbledore," said Severus Snape, suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

"And what are you doing here, you useless half-blood?" spat Igor. "This wouldn't have happened if you've done your job, and kept your eye on the boy!"

"Let us not get carried away," Dumbledore said, stepping in-between the two of them. "We will not kill the boy. It seems that he wouldn't tell us anything, so what we have to do is wait-"

"Wait until he carries out what the Dark Lord had told him to do?" Igor interrupted. "You're a fool, Dumbledore. The thing is, you're too kind- too soft. Before you know it, that boy already has everybody's throats cut out!"

†††

"Draco!" it was Pansy, running into the Great Hall. Her eyes lit up as she saw the platinum blonde boy, sitting at the head of the Slytherin table. She plopped down beside him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Are you okay?" She shot him with loads of questions, basically just the same simple thought with varying words. Draco talked quietly and softly, telling her that it was fine. He sounded tired, as if he was drained of energy. But he smiled at her, still. And she blushed because of it.

Hermione watched the two of them, blindly holding the fork in her hands. She squeezed the silverware too hard that its form is sinking into the skin of the palm of her hand. "Hermione, you alright?" it was Harry. He took a seat next to her, and followed the direction of her gaze. He got her out of reverie, and she realized that her hand was actually in pain.

"I'm okay," she said, her voice was shaky. She took a sip from her cup of orange juice. "And you?"

"Glad to be out of the hospital wing," he said, sounding relieved. Hermione smiled at him, somehow feeling his relief. But he looked at him, the way he does when he something. He looked at her and through her. He saw inside her, inside her brain, inside her heart. He felt her emotions. That's how thick their bond was. Harry was more than just a friend to Hermione, he was like a brother. They feel a lot of things in common, given that they knew nothing about magic before Hogwarts, growing up in the Muggle world, and everything... He knew her better than anyone else did.

"I see the way you look at Ron," he said, his gaze unwavering. He wasn't teasing or mocking her, just stating mere observations. Hermione blushed at his first statement. "And I also see the way you look at Draco. Which leaves me wondering..."

"It's nothing, Harry," she said, trying to chuckle, but only making it worse. She sounded nervous and in denial. "I care about them, both of them. The same way I care about you. We're all friends."

"No, Hermione," Harry shook his head. "You don't look at them the way you look at me."

"Do I look at them the way you look at Ginny?" she volleyed, trying to change the subject. Harry dropped his gaze, and fiddled with his silverware. Her trajectory was right- if she turned the whole conversation around, Harry would stop. He's too shy, too embarrassed to admit that he likes his best friend's sister. "Okay, so, let's stop." And that was that, the conversation was dropped.

They were both blushing by the time Ron came. He sat down across from them, with a plate overloading with breakfast. "Are you sure that's just breakfast? That looks like a whole day's meal!" George smirked, leaning over to take one of Ron's bacons. Ron looked spitefully at him, then dove down and gorged into his food. "Well, what do you expect? Madam Pomfrey don't feed us good food in there!" he said, his words slurred with the food in his mouth.

Hermione sighed hopelessly. What was it that she liked about Ron? He was vulgar, and clueless most of the time. He tends to forget about manners, and he's lazy. He wasn't smart, or particularly handsome, but... He was loyal. He was a good friend, and would never turn his back on you even if he was to die because of it. He was also gallant. He wasn't smart, and he wouldn't use his brains, but he was going to use his heart. He's fun, and has a wicked sense of humor. He made her laugh, and that's something not a lot of people could do. He made her cry, but he'd make up for it. And underneath all of his goof, he's sensitive and caring and humble. That's Ron... and she thinks she loves him. _You're too young, Hermione_, she reminded herself. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Harry, grinning at her. She looked far away, at the big doors, trying to avoid her best friend's stares. And there he was, walking with his natural cool. Viktor Krum was leaving the room, walking away from the Slytherin table, along with his posse... with his eyes directed at the Gryffindor table. He looked at Hermione with his lazy eyes, making her blush. She shifted her gaze, and found herself staring at the Slytherin table. At Draco. And seeing him talking so closely with Pansy Parkinson made her blood boil in anger. _Where to look, where to look_... she thought awkwardly.

"I'm going out for some fresh air," she announced, getting up from the table a little too abruptly. She could feel her heart beating fast.

"Have fun breathing!" Ron called after her.

She's got her eye on a boy whose mere sight only breaks her heart. She's got her eye on a boy who makes her feel something no one else does... And the most desirable boy has his eyes on her. She blushed as she thought of the three guys, Draco, Ron and Viktor. She walked blindly through the halls, across the grounds, and arrived at the edge of the Black Lake, in silence, dwelling into the confusion her feelings give her. She stood on a big root protruding from the ground, and looked over at the lake. There was a cold breeze, but her skin was heated by the warmth of the sun. She took in a breath, inhaling the feeling of calm. _What a beautiful weather_, she thought. Her peace only lasted for a few more seconds, for she started hearing several giggles. She looked over to where the sounds came from, and found a group of fangirls running over to... wait, is that...? Indeed, it was Viktor Krum, taking his morning jog. He caught her staring, and gave her a wink. She couldn't fight the tug at the corner of her lips. Once again, her cheeks were turning red. Before she knew it, he was walking towards her. His legs were long, so it only took a couple of strides for him to reach her.

"Hermione Granger," he said, with his thick accent. There was a grin on his lips, and Hermione wondered to herself, _How can anyone possibly resist him?_

†††

"Hello, Draco," said Fred, walking next to Draco. He looked down at him, as if expecting something from him.

"So, you've known, all this time?" Draco said flatly. He wouldn't have sounded like that if he hadn't thought about for 48 hours straight, but he did. And he's accepted that fact that he'd been lied to by the people he thought he could trust. He had held a grudge against them, but when he got out of the hospital wing, he couldn't bring himself to hate them. In fact, he couldn't bring himself to feel anything. It was as if there was a big hole in his heart. He was already at the brink of learning the truth. All he had to do was... "All this time, you were on their side... You weren't just lying to me, you were lying to everyone."

"I'm sorry, lad," Fred said, ruffling Draco's soft platinum blonde hair. "Do you hate me, now?"

"Yes," Draco said without hesitation. His voice was still flat, and monochromatic. There was no emotion in the way he said it, but it felt like a dagger through the chest to Fred. He knew Draco would hate him, he anticipated it. But to be hated by your own brother... There was a pain in that. "But I feel nothing... as of now." Draco said. It was true. He was numb and emotionless. How long he would stay that way, he doesn't know. He wanted to feel something, anything. But there was nothing. He didn't feel annoyed the way he always did when Pansy clung to him. He didn't feel the thing he felt whenever he saw Hermione, whatever that was. He didn't feel giddy and happy when he saw Ron and Harry. There was nothing for him to feel. Though, he felt lost more than ever. Lost now, that he had answers, than when he didn't. Why was it? Is this all an irony?

"I know exactly how to cheer you up!" Fred said, with false cheerfulness. He grabbed Draco by the arm, slightly nervous though he doesn't know why. And he dragged him through the hall, running as though the devil himself was after them. But Draco refused, and with one swift motion, he withdrew his arm from Fred's grasp.

"And where do you think you're taking me?" Nothing. No emotions, still monotonous. And in that moment, Fred knew. Something happened that night. Something more than what Voldemort had told him. Voldemort did something, or said something to Draco. And it changed him. But what was it?

He knew now that Draco would never be the same again. No one knows what the boy is capable of, since he's pretty unstable with the shock of... whatever Voldemort told him. "I was going to find you a date!" But Fred ignored all the uncertainty that he felt, and carried on with wanting to make Draco feel better.

"Is this still for that stupid ball?" Draco asked. He wasn't looking at Fred, but he was staring outside. He stared as the people around him moved around, doing the usual things they do. He saw groups of people talking, laughing, joking around. They were constant. They lived in the constant part of their lives- trouble-free, worry-free... just constant. And behind them, up in the trees, dried leaves fell off. And that was Draco. The dried leaves was Draco. While everyone around him was normal and constant, there he was, withering. Crumpling to the ground, with helplessness. "I already told you, I have someone else in mind."

He remembered her. She was there at the hospital wing, almost every hour, looking over at him- at them. He felt her presence, and her presence made him want to wake up and open his eyes, but he couldn't. No matter how much he willed himself, he couldn't open his eyes. Because he knew, that when he wakes up, and goes out into the world, nothing would ever be the same. All because of that night. But here he was, standing in the middle of a sea of people, thinking about her and how this dance could be their first and last. Their final night together. The night he could tell her everything before it was too late. The night he would have to tell her goodbye.

"Go get her, then!" Draco was running for her, before Fred even said those words. Draco didn't know how, but somehow he knew that Hermione would be at the Black Lake. And he wasn't wrong. She was there, sitting on root protruding from the ground, with a book on her lap. It was peaceful, being surrounded only by trees and the soft chirping of birds, and the calm sound of the water.

"Hermione," he said, gasping for air. He leaned his shoulder against the bark of the tree.

"Hello, Draco," she said, getting up from where she sat. She closed her book, but kept her finger in-between the pages. "Are you okay, now?"

He nodded. He took a deep breath, and mustered up the courage to ask her. "Hermione, will you go to the dance-"

"I'm sorry, Draco," she said, looking down. She really did look sympathetic. "Ron asked me the same thing, you know, a while ago..."

"And you said yes?"

She smiled sheepishly. She looked at him through lowered eyelids, and it made his heart jump. Emotion. There it was. He feels something. "Well, before Ron, there was Viktor Krum... and... who could say 'No' to Viktor Krum?"

And just like that, he felt his world stop revolving, the grounding apart, and his heart shattering to bits. "Oh," was all he said, then retreated without another word. A while ago, he felt darkness inside him, a spreading numbness, but all that was eased by the thought of her. By the thought of her saying yes, the thought of her and him dancing, the thought of him being able to explain himself to her, for him to get some of the weight off of his chest. But all those hopes came crashing down in a second.

He saw Pansy loitering around with the other Slytherin girls, and blindly, he walks up to them. Not a few feet away, the girls erupted in giggles. How annoying, he thought. "Hey, Pansy," he said, not even trying to sound cheerful. He walked over to her glumly, and went straight to the point. "Go to the dance with me."

Pansy blushed, her smile spread wide across her face. Without hesitation, she said, "Yes!" And not wanting to seem too desperate, she cleared her throat and straightened her back. She tried to fight off the smile, but failed. Silently, she retreated back to her friends. And started to chatter with them, excitedly. But Draco, on the other hand, couldn't care less.

He went back to the Slytherin common room, suddenly feeling tired. On his bed was a package. He looked at it for a long time, and finally lifted up the piece of paper tucked into it. It was from Molly and Arthur. His parents. He felt sick as he thought of them as his parents. He opened the box, and found a robe. He didn't feel a bit interested about it. He tucked it under his bed, and went on to take a nap.

†††

Draco walked into the Great Hall, with Pansy's arm looped in his. She seemed excited, swaying as they stood at the opening, making her emerald green one-strap dress sway along with her. There was a sterling snake pendant pinned onto the strap. Her hair was tied up into a bun, and a few strands of curly hair dangled loosely. The word Slytherin was written all over her. He looked down at himself, and was reminded of how much he didn't care about this event, at all. He hadn't even bothered fixing himself. He remembered waking up from his nap from the sound of rustling feet and loud voices. The other Slytherin boys were fixing themselves for the ball, and there he was, still sleepy. So he just threw on the robe Molly and Arthur had sent for him. It seemed pretty decent, and costly for a Weasley.

"Well? What are we waiting for?"Pansy asked getting him back to the present. She slid her hand down the length of his arm, to the palm of his hand, until their fingers were entwined. Draco had to admit, she looked quite nice in her dress. He thought that, until they made their way to the middle of the room, in the middle of the sea of bodies. And there, he saw Hermione. She looked beautiful, radiant. Her brown hair was braided, and left dangling on her shoulder. Draco slid his hand into Pansy's and placed his other hand on her waist, as she placed her hand in his and her other hand on his shoulder. But still, he kept his eyes on Hermione. She wore an elegant, layered blue dress, and a pendant around her neck. She moved gracefully, as she danced with Viktor Krum, who looked like the prince of war. She looked up at him with the stars in her eyes, and giggled when he leaned in to whisper something in her ear.

Draco continued dancing blindly with Pansy, going in circles, twirling him, holding her in his arms, and raising her up and off her feet. But still, he couldn't bring himself to look at her and take his eyes away from Hermione. "Draco?" said Pansy, calling his attention. "Are you okay?"

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly blinded by the light cast by the floating chandelier. "Uhhh... I just- I might have strained myself. Do you mind if I go get some punch?" he said, excusing himself.

"Oh, okay. You go on ahead. Take care, okay?" she said. He backed away from her, from the whole crowd. He got one last glimpse at Hermione, who was propped up in the air, with Krum's hands around her waist. Her smile lit up the whole room. Draco made his way through the sea of bodies moving around. It was starting to lack of air, and just as he felt suffocated, he found the tables. The chairs were empty, except for two lousy-looking boys. They both looked up as he approached them.

"What?! You look pretty decent tonight!" exclaimed Ron. His eyes widened at the sight of Draco's robes.

Draco took a seat next to Harry, as he said, "Well, it seems that you're back in the habit of trying on our grandmother's robes."

Ron flushed in annoyance. "This was dad's, for your information." He sunk down in his seat, with his arms crossed. He sulked like a little child.

"How's your dates?" Draco finally asked.

"I'm with Lavender Brown," answered Ron. "She got bored and ran off."

"So did my date," Harry piped. The three of them let out exasperated sighs.

"I'm going to go get punch," said Ron, standing up from his seat.

"If you want, I could just give it to you," smirked Draco. He punched Ron lightly by the shoulder, and the boy returned the gesture, only harder.

"This seems pretty dumb, doesn't it?" said Harry, after Ron had gone. He looked straight ahead, and even without looking, Draco knew he was looking at Ginny. "I mean, after everything that's happened. After Professor Lupin's death, and the return of-"

"Maybe that's why it's time," said Draco, cutting him off. He leaned in his seat, staring straight ahead, at nothing in particular. "With all that's been happening, this might be only time we have left. The last dance."

"What did Voldemort say to you, Draco?" the words came out of Harry's mouth in a suspicious tone. Draco turned to look at him. Harry sucked in a breath, and felt his lungs stop functioning. There was something in the way Draco looked at him. It was like... he was breaking. Falling apart somewhere inside him. It was as if he was seeking help, or redemption, or just a way out. To Harry, Draco looked like a lost puppy who has been kicked for so many times... Harry saw in Draco what he had seen when he looked at himself into the mirror, way before Hogwarts, way before magic, way before all this...

But in a second, all those features left Draco. He straightened up in his seat, and took a deep breath. He looked away from Harry, and shifted his gaze at Ron, who was stumbling across the dance floor, with three cups of punch. He was having a hard time, and most of the drinks spilled. Draco gave a sideways glance at Harry, they were different, more guarded. He shot him a look of pure poison. It made him look like quite like a deadly predator, like any time claws would protrude from his knuckles and he'd come slashing at you. Harry braced himself for what might come.

"I told you," Draco said. He gritted his teeth as the truth threatened to spill from his mouth. "I don't remember. I don't remember anything."


	11. Change

It was the end of the fourth year. The end of the year that changed everything, the beginning of a different life. It was like this every year, but not quite. Every year they walk out of Hogwarts, thinking how much their lives has changed. They walk out into the oblivion called present to future. They walk out thinking that everything has changed. But Hermione never felt so wrong. All those time she called those minor incidences change... she was wrong. Because that wasn't change, _this_ was. Draco was. She watched as he walked passed her, without a single glance, a single acknowledgement of her existence. She would've let it pass, think to herself, _Well, maybe he didn't see me_, the way she did every time. But this has been happening for too long. To be exact, ever since Draco had woken up in that hospital bed, he has been different. Sure, he still had his sarcasm and his bitter humor, but he's _changed_. He grew distant. When Ron asked him to hang out with them, he had declined, saying _some of my Slytherin buddies asked wants to hang out_, in the most polite manner. That's how it started out- they would walk to class together, until it just became simple hi's and hello's in the halls, until I can't I have to go with my friends, until there was nothing. Nothing at all. Not even a smile.

"So, Draco, what are you planning to do this summer?" Hermione heard Pansy's flirty voice. Something fired up inside her, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. She didn't know if it was Pansy, or just the way she talked to Draco, or the way she was so close to him, or the way she clung to him like a leech, but something about her infuriated Hermione.

"I don't know," Draco shrugged. The gesture loosened Pansy's grip on his arm, and he stepped away a bit. It wasn't the breathing in and out that calmed Hermione down, it was the fact that Draco stepped away from Pansy. "I'd probably lock myself up in my room, shield myself from all the rubbish that goes on in the Weasleys' house." he said bitterly. It made Pansy laugh, but Draco kept a straight face.

Hermione stared at him from a distance, dumbfounded. Why would he talk like that? He sounded bitter and aggravated by the family who adopted him, loved him, cared for him. Draco...

"Hey, Draco!" it was Ron. Hermione hadn't even realized that Ron was right next to her, and Harry was on her other side. Ron's voice echoed through the corridor, and Draco, along with his friends, stopped. He took a moment, as if to brace himself for the rubbish that was making its way out of his brother's mouth. Finally, he turned around, looking lazily at Ron. But before his eyes reached Ron, his eyes locked up with Hermione's first. That split second, that one little moment, had felt like an infinity to her. There was something strange in the way he looked into her eyes. His grey eyes seemed cold, yet pleading. Angry and vulnerable. Smart and confused. "What do you want, _brother_?" Draco said the last word with so much spite, that it was like a slap in Ron's face.

"Are you joining us in the train this evening?" Ron asked. He had intended for it to be friendly, but after hearing Draco's tone, he had said it spitefully and sounded a little uninviting.

"I guess I'll miss the pleasure of it," Draco answered, yawning as if the whole conversation bored him. He turned around, and put his arm lazily around Pansy's shoulders. He motioned for his Slytherin minions to follow him, and there they went.

"Are you coming down with a fever?" Ron asked Hermione. He looked at her, observingly. His voice still sounded cold. Hermione looked up at him, confused. "You're cheeks are growing red."

"Oh." she said in a small voice. She touched the palm of her hand to her cheek, and felt the heat from it. Ron and Harry has continued walking at the opposite direction. Before she followed, she took one last look over her shoulder. She saw Draco, his arms still draped over the girl's shoulder, which irritated her. And she caught him, looking back at her. When he caught her, he gave her a smirk. She felt her cheeks heating up even more. _That prat_, she thought. _Who does he think he is? Obnoxious little git. _She went to follow her friends, finally making up her mind. Draco was far from her now. She didn't know how to reach up to him. Was this the effect of the Tournament? Maybe it was his victory? Or maybe it was that night...

"I really don't know what's gotten into him," Ron said, to no one in particular. "It's like he's not even my brother anymore."

"Like Fred and George, eh?" said Luna, popping out of nowhere, with the sunlight tangled up in her blonde hair. She looked around, with her eyes full of wonder. Her sudden appearance startled the trio.

"Can't you just say 'Hi' like a normal wizard?" Ron mumbled, his hand pressed to his chest, as if his heart was threatening to jump out.

"Makes me wonder," she mused. "Maybe there really is a curse between Gryffindor and Slytherin. You know, a curse that strains the bonds of friendship and love and family..."

"Interesting," Hermione absent-mindedly agreed. They made their way out of Hogwarts, and were at the station in no time. This was it. That time of year again. "Where are you headed, Harry?" she asked, as they went to look for a room.

"I'll stay with the Dursley's for a month, and move in with the Weasleys after that," he answered, finding one empty compartment. They all settled down, and immediately felt the emptiness as they felt Draco's absence.

†††

_If you get this all right, I will let you have the grand reunion with your beloved parents. The truth is, you just met your mother a while ago, out there. The Death Eater who ran up to you before I came... She is your mother. _

The Dark Lord's words echoed in through Draco's brain. He looked outside the window, and watched the lake shimmering with the reflection of the sun. He looked at the castle, which grew smaller and smaller as the train moved, until it vanished. All around him, people chattered. And he knew, that next to him, Pansy was saying something. She elaborated the details as she made gestures with her hands, but he couldn't bring himself to listen. Besides, the ears of Crabbe and Goyle are enough.

_I've seen my mother_, he thought. _I've seen her, and I might get to see her again. Might. If I get it right._

"You know my friend Astoria, don't you, Draco?" she asked him, a sly grin forming in her lips. Draco nodded. "Well, she wants to see you. During the summer, if you have time. Give her a chance, maybe?" She looked at him, her eyes full of hope and eagerness.

He hesitated, thinking it through. But the truth is, there's nothing to think about. He would stay home, lock himself up in his room, and will look outside his window. And what would he find? His 'family'- Ron, George, Ginny- and maybe even Percy- along with Harry and Hermione. He would watch them, running, happy. All while he's up there, his blood burning with jealousy. "_If_ I have time," he said.

"Yes!" Pansy cheered, almost jumping out of the seat. She raised her hand, then put them around Draco's neck, accompanied by a kiss on the cheek. Then she leaned into her seat, her eyes burning with excitement. "This is going to be so fun! You'll thank me later," she said, giving him a wink.

Draco didn't really know what he and Pansy were- not that he cared, but sometimes he wondered. She seems to like him a lot. Well, they've been friends ever since their first year, but the way she liked him was more than just as friends. She had a crush on him, still has, actually. They've snogged, more than once. But still, here she was, setting him up with another girl. But still, he couldn't care less.

†††

"Welcome home, boys!" Molly stood by the front door, with her arms wide open. The boys and Ginny walked over to her one by one, then went past her to their respective rooms. All, except Draco, who was held back by Arthur and Molly. "Can we have a talk, for a moment, Draco?" Molly's voice was soft, and Arthur's hand on his shoulder was comforting. But it shouldn't be. The word _Family_ wasn't suppose to come to mind when Draco sees them. Because they're not his family, they're liars.

They guided him to the kitchen, and they sat. No one spoke for a solid two minutes, and the atmosphere grew uncomfortable. "How are you, son?" asked Arthur. Draco felt himself wince as he heard what Arthur had called him. _No_.

"It's just good to be back," he lied with a big, fake smile. He wanted to seem normal. He wanted to seem oblivious. The warmth in Molly and Arthur's eyes made him want to forget that he knew his parents, made him want to forget that they lied to them.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Molly asked.

He hesitated for a moment. For a moment, he felt like he was going to lose it. The sincere concern in the tone of their voices, in the light of their eyes, made him want to tell them everything. He wanted to tell them how broken and empty he felt, and how angry he was. "I'm not okay. I feel like I hate everyone. I am just so confused, I don't even know who I am anymore! I just... All I want is to forget about what happened that night. I want to forget about Voldemort and the mission he gave me! I want to keep on thinking that my parents died bravely in the war and are not alive and living with fear in Voldemort's shadows. I want to keep living the way I have been living before. I don't want to let go..." Those were what he wanted to say, and maybe could have said. But instead, he just nodded, "But I really need to rest."

"Oh, okay, then," Arthur said, and dismissed him. He went upstairs, to his room, and like what he said before, he locked himself in.

He let days pass like minutes. He watched Ron and Ginny and the others, except Fred (of course), living a normal life. Running around, laughing, pushing each other... They were so alive. He watched them through the his bedroom window, the way someone would watch a sitcom through the television. He was in a different world. But he wanted to be with them, like them, feel the same. But he couldn't. Because he needs to get used to this, he needs to distance himself from them. He had to get used to being away from them, and he had to stop his heart from breaking every time he thought of it. There's a war coming... and he already took sides. He couldn't break his word. No, not against Voldemort.

He felt dead and clueless and lost. He didn't know what time it was, or what day it was. He only knew that it was either morning or night. He was withering and rotting in his own confines. He would lie in bed through the sleepless nights, doing nothing but staring blankly at the ceiling.

Draco watched the sun rise the next day, eliminating the darkest shadows in the deepest corners of his room. The light blinded him, so he pulled the curtains close. He heard a series of footsteps as the others woke up. He could hear them rushing out of their beds, down to the kitchen. He could hear their joyful voices, rising louder than the echoes of cold voices in his head. They were probably having breakfast. Breakfast with this family was the best, Draco remembered. It was the first meal of the day, and it starts out chaotic, with all the children shouting at each other to pass this and that down. He couldn't be a part of that now.

He was snatched out from reverie by a knock on the door. He stayed put in his bed, planning to ignore the person on the other side. He wanted them to assume he was still asleep. The knock progressed into a loud pounding. "Open up, you git!" It was the unmistakable, cheerful voice of Ron Weasley.

Draco stayed quiet. He closed his eyes shut, and slipped under his blankets so it would look like he was asleep. The door creaked open slowly, and light entered his room. Ron stood at the foot of his bed. "I know you're awake," he said. He sounded nervous, for some reason. Draco still didn't respond. He laid on his side and stared at the lamp by his bed. He heard footsteps as Ron started pacing. "I just don't understand what's happening to you. Talk to me, Draco, please," his voice was strained and pleading. He ran his fingers through his hair frustratedly. He just really didn't understand what was happening to his brother, and he wanted to.

Draco sat up, and let his feet dangle by the side of the bed. He looked down at the floor, avoiding Ron's gaze. Ron took in a sharp breath as he studied Draco. His skin was paler than usual, and his eyes were red-rimmed, and dark shadows formed under them. "Do you hate me, Draco?" he asked. He hadn't been thinking the words, but they just came out in their own accord.

Draco shot a look at him. "No," he said hastily. "Of course not."

"Then, why? Why all this? Why isolate yourself from us?"

"It's a phase," Draco said weakly. _Pathetic_.

"Oh yeah?" Ron asked, unbelieving. "Then why am I not experiencing it?"

"I'm an _orphan_," the words came out of Draco's lips as sharp as knives. "You're not."

"No, you're not!" Ron practically shouted the words. He looked at Draco with such helplessness that it broke Draco's heart. "This- _We_-" he opened his arms, gesturing around him. "_We are your family_. A boy with a family_ isn't_ orphan. Not at all! We're here, Draco! For_ you_..."

Draco's gaze dropped back to the floor. "I want you to hold on to your best memory of me, Ron," he smiled weakly, as he blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. He tilted his head up, because if he didn't his tears would fall the floor. "I want you to hold on to that boy, and never let go of him."

"Why are you saying this?" Ron asked weakly.

"Because he's slipping away," Draco answered, his voice cold and serious, and so was his eyes. "And who I am tomorrow may not be who you want. But always remember... there was a boy who looked like me, and he was your brother, and you were his best friend."

"I don't understand what you're saying, mate," Ron tried to laugh off the tears streaming down his face. He walked out of the room, and returned immediately with a tray of breakfast. "But hunger is probably making you delusional."

He left the tray on the bedside table, and left. He locked the door using one of the new spells he had learned. He left Draco alone, but he cried as he walked through the hallways. He didn't understand a thing that was happening. He didn't know why Draco said those things... It was as if he was saying goodbye...

†††

A letter came in for Draco. It was from Astoria Greengrass. She was the younger sister of Daphne Greengrass, one of Pansy's closest friends. Though they've never spoken to each other before, she asked him to meet her at the Three Broomsticks for some friendly chat. He didn't see reason why she'd want to have a friendly chat with him, given that they didn't even know anything about each other. He wasn't planning to go, in fact, he was in front of the fireplace, about to burn the letter when Fred appeared behind him. Fred told him- _forced_ him to go. "It's obvious this girl has a thing for you, don't be a snob, Draco!" he had said. He ruffled Draco's platinum blonde hair as if he wasn't aware of what the boy was going through. Draco had smacked him, hard. So hard his knuckles hurt. There was a bruise on Fred's jaw, but he didn't budge. He knew he deserved it.

Now, Draco walks into the Three Broomsticks, looking for a girl sitting all by herself. He spotted her immediately, with her dark hair flowing around her and her eyes lit up with excitement. He walked over to her, and sat across from her. "I believe we haven't officially met, Astoria," he said, taking her hand in his and shaking it.

Astoria blushed at the contact, and tilted her head forward so that his hair covered her heated cheeks. "I believe there's nothing more to know about," she replied. "Pansy has told me almost every single thing about you. Is there anything more, Draco Weasley?"

He leaned back in his seat, and stared at her through lowered lids. Her heart fluttered in her chest. "Pansy doesn't know me as much as she thinks she does," he said.

Something between them immediately clicked, and they engaged in a heartfelt conversation. They started out talking about Draco's victory in the Triwizard Tournament. She stared at him, starry-eyed, as she spoke of how amazing he was and how heart-stopping his tactic was. Then they started talking about his title as the Slytherin Seeker, then the actual game of Quidditch and other legendary Quidditch games from the past. She was also interested in knowing more about Draco's personal life. As intrusive as it was, Draco didn't seem to mind. He let her ask him a couple of questions about being an orphan and coming to terms with the fact he lives with people who are not his blood, and he answered honestly. He answered the real answers coming from Draco Weasley, not the ones he should be saying from Draco Malfoy. She looked at him with pure admiration, a look not even Hermione nor Pansy has ever given him. She didn't look at him like she wanted him, she looked as if she just really wanted to know him.

They had a good laugh about some things, and by the end of their little chat, Astoria was in the brink of tears, with hysterics bubbling from her stomach. She kept on laughing and laughing, and Draco couldn't keep himself from doing the same. Finally, she caught her breath. She wiped her teary eyes with the back of her hand, and gave him a huge smile. "Summer's almost ending," she said. "I'm looking forward to seeing you in Hogwarts in a couple of weeks."

Draco nodded. He might've said something, but he couldn't remember. He couldn't even remember how he got home. He walked home, lost in thought as he replayed his conversation with Astoria Greengrass in his mind, over and over again. He listened to the sound of her laugh, saw the twinkle in her eyes at the back of his mind. That little hour filled with words... he could live in it forever. But the next thing he knew, he was at front door to the Weasleys'. He took a deep breath as he was bound to see all of them again, with their expectant faces. He took a deep breath as he placed his hand on the knob. He could hear them all laughing. He opened it, and the laughs died down. He was surprised to see Fred seated on the arm of George's chair. Was he actually with them, the whole time? Laughing along the way he used to?

"Draco!" It was a familiar voice. It was a voice he would no anywhere. A voice that he would hear even if his ears had grown deaf. It was the voice that made him forget about Astoria Greengrass, and how comfortable she had made him feel. "Where have you been?" Hermione asked. She looked him from foot to head. "Have you grown taller?"

"He was in a little rendezvous with Astoria Greengrass," Fred answered Hermione's first question, in a teasing voice. Silence filled the air, and neither Hermione nor Draco had any idea how long they've been standing there, looking awkwardly at each other. Until, of course, Ron cracked a corny joke. Just trying to diffuse the tension.

"Astoria Greengrass?" there was a hint of... something in Hermione's voice. She looked at Draco, and her smile grew weak.

"I'm heading up to my room," said Draco, quietly. He slipped past Hermione without a word, and she looked down at her feet. She took in a deep breath, and headed back down to the floor next to Ginny. She watched Draco walk up the stairs, and for a moment, their eyes met. Hermione's heart leaped from her chest, but a dagger was sent through it when Draco abruptly looked away.

That night, Hermione crept down the halls, pacing back and forth. She could feel the tension between Draco and his family, and from what she's heard from Ron... she's just so worried. She stared out the window, at the moon, until sleep has finally dawned upon her. She walked back to her room, but instead of finding an empty bed, she finds Draco standing by the window, staring at her.

"Do you need something?" he asked. His voice was as cold as ice.

Hermione looked around, confused. She wanted to slap herself- she wasn't in her room. She must've blindly walked to Draco's. Embarrassed, she took the opportunity to finally talk to him. "I need to talk to you," she said, trying to not make it sound like, _I'm sorry, I sleepwalked to your room_.

"I don't believe there's anything to talk about," he said, looking away from her and out the window. At the darkness that has consumed even the moon.

"What's happening to you, Draco?" she asked, he didn't answer. He acted as though she didn't exist. "You know what Harry thinks?" Still no response. "He thinks you're one of them. He thinks Voldemort offered you something, and you accepted it."

"Don't say his name," he said. His squeezed his eyes shut, but she couldn't see for he was still looking away from her.

"I'm not afraid of him."

"You should be."

"Is it true, Draco?" she wanted him to say no. She wanted him to flash her one of those devilish grin, or tease her with his wicked humor. She wanted him to show her the Draco she used to see. She used to love. The Draco that was her friend. The boy who saved her from the troll. But he didn't answer. The silence between them seems to have said _yes_.

"Why?!" she asked, her voice was pleading. She didn't know why she was crying, but the tears were uncontrollable.

"Go back to sleep, Hermione," he said.

"Answer me!" her voice was barely a whisper but he heard her as though she had shouted it.

He looked at her sharply. All emotions left his bloodshot eyes. He walked towards her, and the next thing she knew, he had his hand on her throat. "I could kill you right now, if you don't shut your mouth." His hand started to tighten around her neck. He could feel her bones. He could hear her choking, gasping and fighting for air.

"Draco-" she choked. And he let her go. Her knees gave in, and she slumped forward, crouched on the floor. She put her hand to her throat as she gasped for air. She was crying. Not because she had almost died, but because she lost him. Draco was beyond redemption. She didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth. She stood up on her feet, and watched as Draco opened the door. He looked at her, but she couldn't bring herself to look at the monster he has been. She ran out of that room, and toward hers, as soundlessly as she could. She cried herself to sleep that night, but never did she ever speak of what Draco had done to her.

†††

It was the last day of the summer, and once again, the children were being sent off to Hogwarts. Molly and Arthur accompanied them to Kings Cross. They passed Platform 9 3/4, and Draco walked nervously behind his family. There was an uneasiness in the station, but it felt as if he was the only one feeling it. He could feel a gaze, filled with an intensity so cold it burned his back. He could feel Him. And it was unnerving. Voldemort brought tension in the atmosphere, and Draco kept looking over his shoulder but He was nowhere to be found. He was startled by the sound of a loud horn, coming form the train. They must be boarded, immediately. It's time.

"Oh, you're going to be late!" exclaimed Molly. She shooed her children, as gently as she can as she panicked. She gave them big kisses on the cheek and encouraging squeezes on the shoulder.

Draco paused before he received his yearly dose of vitamin M. He turned to Molly and gave her a kiss on the cheek and Arthur a big hug. He just couldn't help himself. It was his goodbye to them, because after that moment, he was no longer Draco Weasley. He was Draco Malfoy.

* * *

**Finally came up with an idea for Chapter 11! And I'm working on Chapter 12... but it might take a while before I'm able to update since I'm kinda busy with summer school, so... yeah.**

**Hang in there!**

**xoxo**


	12. Dumbledore's Army

Fred sat at the edge of the Black Lake. Despite of everything he's heard of about the Lake, he still wasn't afraid to let both his feet dangle into the cold and dark water. There was a tingling feeling as he felt tiny fishes swimming around, and he almost wanted to laugh. But he couldn't. His brain was a joke-making factory, and he used to laugh at himself for the things he came up with. But not today. Not the morning after Voldemort has called him for the second time in his life. He remembered the first time he had met the Dark Lord. He had felt scared and unnerved, but after that he had felt so brave. He remembered walking out of the Malfoy Manor, straight-backed and invincible. But now, he didn't feel invincible. He felt guilty, even. Because of Draco. Fred had agreed to Voldemort even when he knew it wasn't his call. He had helped Voldemort plan out Draco's fate as His newly found pawn. He saw potential in Draco's relationship with Ron and Harry, and found great use of it.

"There's something I need," the Dark Lord's cold voice echoed in Fred's ears. "And I need your brother to give it to me."

"What is it, my Lord?" Fred had asked.

"Snape spoke of a Prophecy," He answered. His voice was still weak and hoarse. He sounded exhausted even though he hadn't been doing anything.

Fred had felt confused, in that moment. Voldemort already knew about the Prophecy- that's basically the reason why he had killed Lily and James Potter. That's why he had taken Harry, along with Draco and Neville. Why would he need it? Why now? But Fred knew he wasn't in the proper place to question the Dark Lord, unless he wanted to die right on the spot.

"I know Dumbledore would be seeking for it when news spreads that I want it," He continued. "I know the Order would be after it, as well. Not that I trust my own forces, but I want to make sure we get it. I hear there's a formation starting within the student body, is that right?"

"Dumbledore's Army, my Lord," Fred said. "Led by Harry Potter."

"I want you and Draco to be a part of it," He ordered. "If this so-called Army gets their hands on the Prophecy before we do, at least you and Draco will be able to get it, still. We will have it, either way."

"You're honestly thinking a bunch of kids could take it before the Death Eaters do?" he blurted out the question without meaning to. Voldemort gave him a look of poison, and he immediately wished that he hadn't said anything.

"The Order of the Phoenix started out as a bunch of kids, and yet, they almost defeated me during the First Wizarding Battle," Voldemort's voice grew louder and colder as he spoke. He spoke of a lot more than that, calling Fred names and telling him how idiotic it is to question Him. Fred winced as he took all the insults, thinking that it would be better than an Unforgivable Curse. He had simply apologized, and it had been accepted. Then Voldemort talked about Draco, the things he could do, how useful he could be, the curses He could teach him...

The sound of breaking twigs and crunching dried leaves woke him from his reverie. Standing behind him was Draco. He looked sullen, and he kept on kicking the stones at his feet. "You weren't at the Common Room last night." he said, bending down to pick a stone, wonderfully crafted into the kinds you use for skipping. He positioned himself on a certain angle, and threw it onto the water. It skipped five times, before it sunk with a loud_ plump_.

"Why were you looking? Anything you need?" Fred asked.

"Have you met them?" Draco asked. He looked down at the water, straight into the eyes of Fred's reflection. "My parents, I mean."

"Yes," he said blankly.

"What are they like?"

"Like every other Death Eater."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

Fred picked up a stone, a big round one, one that wasn't fit for skipping. He raised his arm and threw as far away as he can. "Death Eaters are vicious beings, Draco. We do not know mercy, we only know bloodlust. We love our family, but if the Dark Lord ordered for us to kill them, we would kill every single on of them. Without hesitation."

"_We_?" Draco repeated, his face contorting into disgust. "Do you really feel that way? Would you really do that?"

"Death Eaters are wizards who don't have a choice," Fred answered. He looked away from the water, away from the reflection of Draco's steady stare. "I don't have a choice." Fred felt stupid saying that. Of course he had a choice. And he made the wrong one. He could have said no, but he didn't. He had seen the Death Mark and had thought it liberating to have such a mark on the inside of his forearm. Being in Slytherin had changed his views on the relationship between wizards and muggles. Being in Slytherin had blurred the thin line between right and wrong for him, and he ends up choosing the latter most of the time.

Fred cleared his throat then looked up at Draco. "The Dark Lord wants to put you to work."

* * *

Dumbledore's Army met up at the usual place, in the Room of Requirement. Harry looked at all of them, up from where he stood, with Ron and Hermione by his side. He counted each and every one of the students who stood before him. He counted once, twice... "There's fewer of us," he whispered.

"A lot of them thought this was rubbish," Hermione shifted her position so that her lips were right next to Harry's ear. "They believe in what they read in The Daily Prophet. And all they read about is the Minister claiming that You-Know-Who isn't back. He refuses to believe this, despite all the facts Professor Dumbledore has offered him. And besides, the Ministry is _afraid of us_- they would take us down at all costs..." she pulled away, and looked him straight in the eyes. "Harry, half of _this_-" she said, gesturing to the students who held out their wands and eagerly talked to each other about the spells they would learn. "Will probably be gone tomorrow."

Harry nodded, "I know." He turned to everyone else in the room. "Okay everyone!" he knew why he called their attention. He called them to start the class, teach them spells that they could use to protect them, but he couldn't start. He felt angry- not at these people, not at himself. Maybe he hated the Ministry, for being so blind. And maybe he hated how the other students who left because they didn't see enough of the truth. This was not at all rubbish. And the fact that they were actually afraid that the Ministry will come for _them_... it was outrageous! And most of all, he hated the man who is the reason behind this necessity- Voldemort. His hands balled into fists at his sides, and his jaw clenched. He stretched his neck, and found the sound of a soft snap a bit calming. A flash of Voldemort doing the same thing flashed inside his mind.

"None of you really know what's happening out there, or even within the castle!" Harry's voice shook with anger and frustration. All of the chattering stopped as they all looked up at him. "What we do in here isn't any rubbish or a waste of time, or anything of that sort. We are here to learn what we don't have enough time to learn in our classes! Because, believe it or not, time is running out! The longer we are here, the longer we are numb to the things happening outside of this world... He is getting stronger. Yes, I am referring to Voldemort! He's back and he's stronger- _much_ much stronger." He took a pause to let his words sink into the minds of his audience. They remained silent, but a flash of understanding and terror and other conflicting emotions showed in their faces. "The Ministry is blind. They refuse to believe the truth, because they are afraid of it. Yes, they threatened us... because they are threatened by us. They think Dumbledore created us to take over the Ministry, but that's not our purpose. They will say anything they have to to stop us. To keep us quiet. To keep us down. And if you're afraid of them-" he squeezed his eyes shut. "_Leave_. Now-" His voice came out as sharp as a dagger, swishing through the air. He opened his eyes, as he heard the others to start to chatter again. But they weren't chattering about the things they chattered about a while ago. They were reconsidering Harry's offer. They could play it safe, leave and act as if they were never a part of this so-called conspiracy, or they could stand their ground and fight whatever it is that is out there. "Go on, I won't hold you back," Harry urged. He sounded angry, he looked angry.

He had expected a lot of students to leave, but what he hadn't expected was for _more than half_ of them to leave. The walls of the Room of Requirement opened, as they left. Some of them looked over their shoulders to give Harry an apologetic look, but some of them just looked down in shame and cowardice- or at least that's what Harry thought. That's how he saw them- shameful and cowardly. He knew he shouldn't feel that way, but he couldn't help it.

He looked over at what was left of the Army. A few familiar faces- Ginny, George, Luna, Neville, Cho, Collin Creevey... He felt both of Hermione's hands envelope his, with warmth. She looked at him, and gave him a weak smile. While Ron placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. Harry nodded. _We're in this together, mate_, he remembered Ron say once. And for some reason, those words never left Harry's mind.

The room was silent for a long time, until Harry spotted two figures stepping into the room. The small crowd assembled in front of Harry gave way as the two made their way to the front. They were the last people Harry was expecting, but maybe Harry had been wrong about them. "Is there room for two more?" It was Fred Weasley, with his bashful smile. Behind him was Draco, who looked up at Harry with a devilish grin.

Harry couldn't help but smile. He ran down the platform he was standing on, and went to throw his arms around Draco. He had thought Draco was one of them, the Death Eaters. He has never been so glad to be wrong. How could he have ever doubted his best friend?

Another set of arms wrapped around the two of them, and Harry realized it was Ron. Ron's eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "We missed you, buddy!" he said, as he ruffled Draco's freshly combed hair.

"I'm sorry," Draco said. His voice was muffled by the happiness that choked him. He felt good for the first time after months. He felt warmth and love and happiness and belonging. Sooner, it wasn't just the three of them. Everyone else in the room had joined the group hug and to Draco, it had felt like coming home. And he wished he would never leave.

As the group rejoiced, filling the room with so much laughter, Draco found his way to Hermione. She stood at one corner, with her hand held out, pointed at a chair. "What exactly are you trying to do?"

The sound of his voice made her jump. She didn't know how to feel now that he was speaking to her. Draco wanted nothing else but to speak to her, but he didn't know how to, given that he strangled her for no reason, and was just an inch away from actually killing her. "I'm trying to disintegrate it," she answered, trying to sound confident.

"Could you teach me?" Draco asked, twirling his hand in his fingers. He looked at her through lowered lids and Hermione tried not to look at him.

"I'm still in the middle of mastering it, truth be told," she said.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. His voice broke and he sounded as though he was crying even though no tears came out. He sounded apologetic and sincere, and it broke her heart so much that she felt like running to him and just keeping him in her arms.

"It's okay," she said.

"I didn't mean that," he said. He looked down at his wand, at his hands. He studied his hands as if it was the first time he had laid eyes on them. It was pale, and his fingers were long and slender and delicate-looking. He saw his blue veins through his ivory white skin, on his palms. These hands... He remembered that night, with his hand wrapped tightly around Hermione's neck. The moon illuminated half of her face through the darkness, and he could hear nothing but the sound of his heart beating and Hermione whimpering, choking, gasping for air. He flinched as he imagined her on the floor, unbreathing, with her heart unbeating. Her skin cold as ice and turning into a color almost the same as ash. He imagined not seeing light in her eyes. He imagined her dead. Dead because of him.

"Draco, are you alright?" she asked, snapping him out of reverie. She sounded concerned, and her hand was held out to him, as though she was about to touch him. But she caught herself and let her hand drop to her side. But still, the concern and worry didn't leave her eyes. How could she feel that way? How could she still be worried about him, when he had tried to kill her?

"I didn't mean to," he blurted out. "I didn't want to hurt you. I just- I just wanted to be alone, and you- you wouldn't-"

"It's okay," she said, but she sounded unconvinced.

"No it's not, Hermione!" his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.

"I forgive you," she said. She held out her hand, as if reaching for him. She approached him with caution, and he pretended not to notice it. Her hand reached his, and she gave him the purest and most honest smile he had ever seen. She noticed the look of confusion in Draco's face. _Why? I don't deserve it._ The unspoken words showed in his eyes. "Because you're my best friend. And I love you. And I... am just so happy to have you back to us."

"Now, let's work on this spell, shall we?" she chuckled. She pointed her wand to the chair, and told him about it. It was the Reductor Curse. The curse blasts objects into small pieces, pretty much disintegrating them. It reduces the target into fine mist or a pile of ashes. "Reducto!" she tried. All she did was push the chair a bit farther. She groaned in exasperation. "You try."

She stepped away, and gave way for Draco. He held his wand out in front of him, and kept his eyes locked on the target. _Reducto, Reducto, Reducto_... he chanted the word in his head over and over again. He took in a deep breath, and focused. "Reducto!" he said. He had the same effect as Hermione, but just a little bit with more exaggeration. He sent the chair flying into the air, and smashing hard against the wall. It broke one of its legs and he looked over his shoulder as he heard Hermione laugh.

Before he could defend himself, Ginny came bouncing into his view. "Are you trying out the Reductor Curse?" she asked. There was snide confidence in her voice. "I've mastered that one. Look." She pointed her wand at a dummy. It was big and dark, resembling a Death Eater or Darth Vader (a character famously known in the muggle world). Draco crossed his arms, and arched his eyebrow as he watched his little sister. "Reducto!" she said, with a huge amount of force in her voice. A blue jet of light flashed out of her wand and the dummy blasted into mist. It was like powder. Draco stared wide-eyed, along with everyone else in the room.

"Brilliant as usual, Ginny," said Harry from across the room, clapping his hands.

"Well, I sense some favoritism," said Fred, leaning over to George. _Well, that's new_.

"'S more than that, believe me," George smirked.

* * *

**_I know this chapter is pretty short. I did my best and I apologize if this was less than you expected. But, yeah... I'M ONLY HUMAN._**

**_Oh my gosh, you guys! I am so sorry I just have a lot of FEELS right now! Have you heard of the Mara Dyer trilogy? Well, yeah... it's so freaking amazing! NOAH SHAW IS RUINING MY LIFE! And Michelle Hodkin is killing me! I'm done with the first two books and the last one isn't coming out until who knows when! UGH!_**

**_and Teen Wolf you guys! They keep on torturing my bby, Isaac, physically and emotionally! :'( WHY WON'T THEY STOP?! AND THE WHOLE CAST IS JUST SO BEAUTIFUL IT HURTS! and Colton, we miss you babe!_**

**_and THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS! The movie is less than a month away! And the track list for the soundtrack just came out (well, it wasn't what I was expecting, but it will do)... _**

**_and have you seen the stills for The Maze Runner?! GAWD, DYLAN O'BRIEN AND KAYA SCODELARIO! Speaking of Kaya, you guys! Did you see the first episode of Skins Fire! HOMIGASH! IT'S SO GOOD TO SEE HER ON TV AS EFFY AGAIN!_**

**_I TOLD YOU I HAD A LOT OF FEELSSS!_**

**_Oh, and special thanks to my beautiful cousin for inspiring me, and whose very existence encouraged me to keep writing! ;) I love you... MARIELLE! :D_**


	13. First Kill

_"When the curtain's call_  
_Is the last of all_  
_When the lights fade out_  
_All the sinners crawl"_

_- Demons; Imagine Dragons_

And because of the step Draco had made in joining, Dumbledore's Army earned a handful of recruits from Slytherin. Sure, they have a blasted sense of humor and looks down at the others, but they will do. Among the Slytherin students who had joined were Draco's usual posse, Crabbe and Goyle, but with the exception of Pansy Parkinson, who refused to spend more than an hour with a bunch of rebellious scums. And she refused to be led by a student like Harry, "who doesn't have the right to lead, with his reputation as _just_ a half-blood." And one of the Slytherin recruits, Astoria Greengrass, had somehow intrigued Hermione. Therefore, they spent a lot of time together. Astoria was smart, just as smart as Hermione. Which made everything worse.

"One know-it-all is enough, why did you have to bring in another one?" Ron asked Draco once, when he had overheard a very sophisticated and advanced conversation between Astoria and Hermione. It was almost as if they weren't speaking english. It was like a language known only in the outskirts of this planet!

But it was different seeing Hermione this way, all the boys agreed on that one. Hermione used to spend most of her time with the three of them, Draco, Ron and Harry. They saw her as a girl, though, not as one of the boys. She was pretty and she acted pretty much like a girl, but _this-_ this was surprising. Neither of the boys ever thought that Hermione could act even more as a girl than she already had. It seems as though an army has been created within the Army. The girls spent their time in a group, a big circle that seemed to push every boy out. They walked around like a pack of wolves, never leaving anyone behind. They laughed at things only the can understand, and they talked about such girly things, it made the boys want to puke. And they spoke about _boys_! It sent shivers down the boys' spines, knowing that the girls are actually criticizing their every move, rating them...

And given that Ginny had mastered the Reductor Curse, and that Astoria was very good in potions and that Hermione knew a whole span of curses and jinxes and hexes... The girls overpowered the boys.

The big girly change in Hermione wasn't the only unusual thing, though. There was also Fred and George. After their first year in Hogwarts, they spent almost every day trying not to bump into each other, or something. And now it's as if they were glued together. They were so inseparable, and their mischief is back to work. Once, they had filled a box of Bertie Bott's with only the booger-flavored beans and gave it to Neville. Neville ended puking for hours and hours and hours in the Room of Requirement. And seeing the substance coming out of Neville influenced both Crabbe and Goyle, and really, it didn't look good. Classes were cancelled that day and the next day, for the stench of their puke lingered within the room. Ron couldn't decide which was more worrisome- having Fred and George in good terms, or having them ignore each other.

A duel was scheduled after their Hogwarts classes, and the Army were to meet at the Room of Requirement. When the time came, everyone arrived on time, except for one. The most important person, the teacher, Harry. Draco leaned against the wall, engaged in a conversation with Astoria. Ron was sprawled on the floor, asleep with his snores as loud as thunder. Hermione paced back and forth, worried about Harry for he has never been late for any of their meetings. She even sent Ginny and Dean to go look for him. She was just wondering where they were, when they finally emerged into the run, both gasping for air. They've been running, and they looked worried.

"Harry's headed out of the grounds!" Ginny announced.

Hermione looked stopped pacing, and without another thought, she shook Ron awake. They ran out the Room, followed by whoever wanted to follow. Ron was still groggy with sleep, but stayed at the same pace as her. Their loud footsteps echoed through the almost empty halls, and Hermione felt relief as she heard several other footsteps. She caught sight of Harry by the bridge, and accelerated her speed. "Harry!" she called. They were only a few feet away from each other.

Harry stopped walking and looked back at her. He looked angry and frustrated. He looked helpless and invincible, at the same time. "They have him, Hermione," he said, his voice shaking. "The Death Eaters have Sirius and they're torturing him."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know, really," he answered honestly. "I just... it was like a dream, a vision. I just know, okay? He's at the Ministry, and they're looking for something. Information that, most likely, only Sirius knows about."

"And you're going to save him?" Neville asked, stepping forward.

"No, Neville, I'm going to go there so I could watch him die!" Harry said sarcastically.

Neville looked down at his feet, and took a step back. "You do know that we're coming with you, right?" Hermione said, looking over her shoulder to see who _We_ is. It was Ron, Draco, Ginny, the twins, Neville and Luna. It wasn't the best, but it will do.

"And I don't have time to argue with you," Harry said, and continued walking. He knew they would follow, they always do.

"Are you planning to _walk_ to the Ministry, Harry?" Luna asked, with her usual smooth and calm voice. Luna's name fit her perfectly, Harry once thought. She was calm like the moon and bright like the moonlight. She kept calm even when the most ferocious storms passed by. She was never overcome by panic, and everyone in the Army thought that was amazing.

"Unless you've got anything else in mind?" Harry's words came out sharply, even though he didn't intend it to be. He was just asking Luna for options, and he tried to sound as nice as possible. But he couldn't. He wasn't like Luna. He couldn't keep his calm in times like this, and it just seems that everyone is making him snap.

"It will always be easier to fly," she said, looking up at the sky. It wasn't such a bad weather to fly. "And Thestrals are always just around."

"Brilliant, Luna," Harry looked over his shoulder at her. Once again, she had impressed him. "Brilliant." He broke out into a sprint, then into a run when he heard the others following.

They all ran to the Forbidden Forest. They tripped over exposed roots and fallen branches, but neither one of them stopped to check if they had gashes, which was most likely. They finally reached the heart of the forest, and Draco saw _nothing_. Until he saw Luna walking over to the middle, and putting her hand up in the air. It was like she was petting the air. "Oh," she squeaked. "I almost forgot. Thestrals are creatures visible only to people who have seen death happen. Like me, and Harry... and Ron."

Ron stepped forward as he looked at the creatures. He didn't quite like it, it looked hideous. They were sinister. They were big and bony, with a dragon-like head, with bear white glittering eyes that lack both of expression and pupils. Its skin was so thin that you could see its bones underneath. It had wings, sprouting on their backs, but there weren't any feathers. It was vast, black and leathery, like the bats'.

One of them walked towards him. When it reached him, it lowered its head, and waited. He stared at it, wondering what it was doing. "No time to waste, Ron," Harry said. Ron looked up and found that Harry was perched onto one, and so were the others. Given that they couldn't see what they were riding on, maybe Luna and Harry helped them out. Ron climbed the Thestral, and wished he hadn't. His skin being in contact with the creature's skin... he felt sick. He felt as though he was going to puke anytime now. He envied those who couldn't see the creature, at least they wouldn't have horrifying nightmares tonight. His sick feeling got worse as he realized that they were actually in the air, flying. He felt his stomach churn and tasted something sour at the back of his throat. The creature underneath him made a noise, and he felt as though it was laughing at him.

Hogwarts was out of sight, and they were exiting the Wizarding World through some invisible line between this world and the Muggle world. They all started squinting as the air grew savage against them. The sun was setting in London, and Harry felt his time dissolving.

* * *

They finally arrived in the Ministry, and what happened next was more crucial. The Ministry was an endless labyrinth of dark, tiled walls. Their feet echoed, bouncing off the walls, and Harry felt so frustrated. But he kept running, even though he started feeling hopeless. Sirius was the only family he had left. He couldn't lose him.

But he's knees gave in as he felt a stabbing pain on his forehead. The scar burned with searing pain. He cried out. He cringed, as images flashed in his head. He saw something like a crystal ball. He saw Sirius being hit at the side of his head. He saw a snake. And a number. And he heard voices. He couldn't make out the words, but it felt as though he understood them.

When the vision stopped, and the pain had subsided, he found Hermione crouched down next to him. Everyone was looking down at him, looking helplessly at him. "I found it," he said. "I found the Prophecy."

He told them everything he saw, as they continued on their way to the elevator, and made their way up to the 9th level. There was a stomach-churning and eye-blurring sensation as the elevator made its way up with its sharp twists and turns. By the time they got to the floor, Ron was feeling so dizzy that he could no longer fight the breakfast rising up.

"Go ahead," Neville said. "I'll stay with him, and catch up. There's no time to lose."

Harry nodded, then hurried. "What exactly are we looking for?" Draco asked. He looked around him. They were surrounded by thousands of tall shelves, and on those shelves were millions of small, dusty glass orbs. He looked at one. It was a small crystal ball, with hazy blue substance swirling inside it. He didn't know if it was just his imagination or did he really just see a flicker of an image?

Harry shouted out to him from a distance. He had shouted out a number- the number of the shelf they were looking for. Draco looked up and down the shelves, looking for the number. He was walking backwards, double-checking the numbers he had passed, when he bumped into someone. He turned around, and found Fred, looking down at him. "You know what we're here for, Draco," he said as a reminder.

Draco nodded. Fred smiled weakly, and Draco something flicker in his eyes, but it left as soon as it came. "I was starting to forget, to be honest," Fred said. He ran his fingers nervously through his hair. "It feels good, doesn't it? Being with them..."

"But you already sold your soul to the devil," Draco said, looking down, knowing that Fred sold his soul, as well.

Fred opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Harry's triumphant voice. "I found it!" he shouted, his voice echoing. They all ran to the middle of the room, and huddled around the ball. It glowed with mystified mist. It looked somehow hypnotizing. Even so when they started hearing small and faint voices. Then there came the sound of something slashing through the air. They all looked up, alert. They all held their wands out.

A dark video dropped in front of Luna, with its wand pointed at her. Before she could speak the incantation in her mind, the Death Eater was blasted to the wall, knocked unconscious. "Are you okay, Luna?" it was Neville. Ron no longer looked sick, but somehow uneasy and nervous.

They were surrounded by the same dark figures. It's almost impossible to tell which one was which. "Stupefy!" Hermione hit one, and sent it flying back. And that's when they started to run. "Go look for an exit!" Fred shouted to Harry. "We'll try and hold them back a little!"

Draco and Fred stayed back. They was an exchange of unspoken words between the two of them and the rest of the Death Eaters. They shot spells that are not so harmful, and the Death Eaters easily dodged them. Of course, they put on a show that would look like they're actually fighting for their very lives.

"Draco! Fred!" it was Ginny. She was breathing heavily, but her eyes shone brightly with adrenaline. "Reducto!" she hit one of the Death Eaters, and it vanished into thin air. "Harry found an exit." The three of them ran to the end of the long hall, the Death Eaters following close behind, but not too close. They would occasionally look over their shoulders and shout some spells- it was a hit and miss.

They finally arrived at the end of that hall, and they found an open door. There was nothing but darkness beyond the door, and the others must have gone in, for they were nowhere in sight. They all ran towards the door, Ginny going first. She yelped as she realized she was falling, and Draco tried to plant his feet to the ground to keep from falling, only to be pushed by Fred.

The fall was swift, and in no time, they would hit the ground. They would die. Draco closed his eyes, anticipating his death. His breath caught. He hears a soft thud and feels something rough beneath him. There was a slight throbbing in his head, and an searing pain on his forehead, but he was alive. Breathing. He opened his eyes, and found that he was on the ground. His eyes darted up, and found Hermione with her wand out. She smiled, which only widened the split on her lip. "You didn't really think I'd let you guys die, did you?"

"Thanks," he said, getting up. His legs felt like jelly, and he had to shake it to shake out the feeling. But it was back. The swooshing sound, the shrieking laugh. The Death Eaters had followed them down, and in a second, Draco felt something sharp pointed at his neck. He tried to move, but he couldn't. Strong arms held him in place. His eyes roamed the place, and across from him, on the other side of the room was Luna. She was also held captive by a masked Death Eater. In the middle of the room was Harry, with the Prophecy in his hand. He looked frustratedly around him, at his friends, whose lives now depended on him.

Draco noticed something from behind Harry. An arch. There was a veil in the arch, and it looked as if it was swaying. As if the was touched by someone. Draco suddenly remembered about the things Arthur used to talk about with Molly, when he came home from work. He once spoke of a Veil, in the Death Chamber. The Veil is the barrier between the land of the living and the land of the dead. The memory of the things he had heard about the Veil sent shivers down Draco's spine. He squeezed his eyes shut.

When he opened them, he found of them, a Death Eater, walking towards Harry. The Death Eater wove his wand across his face, and his mask vanished into mist, revealing a man Draco had never seen but still, there was a familiarity to him. He remembered looking into the mirror, at his reflection. His pale complexion, the dark shadows under his eyes from the sleepless nights, his platinum blonde hair, his dull and angry grey eyes... The man who stood before Harry had the same. _Could it be?_

Draco wanted to free himself from the arms of the one who held him. His hand itched to reach out to the man, his feet ached and wanted to run towards him. "Where's Sirius?" Harry asked.

"Give me the Prophecy, and you'll see him," the man said. He sounded kind, with his smooth voice and his patronizing tone. But he wasn't. How could a Death Eater be kind? He reached out his hand, slowly approaching Harry.

"No!" Harry said, yanking the prophecy away.

"He's safe, and he will remain safe if you hand it over," he said. He sounded convincing enough.

"Why do you need it?" Harry asked. His voice shook. The man didn't answer. "Why does Voldemort need it?"

"Just give it to me, Harry," the man pleaded.

"Don't give it to him!" Neville shouted. His voice was hoarse and strained.

"Shush, boy!" said the woman who held him. She didn't have her mask on, as well. And her hair flowed around her in tangled curls. She smiled gravely, as she pushed her wand further into Neville's skin. Draco saw blood dripping from Neville's throat. Neville struggled to get loose, but it only made everything worse for him.

"Hand it over, Potter," she said, with mock sweetness. Harry shook his head, and his the Prophecy behind him The woman gave a wide smile. She pushed Neville down on his knees, and held him by the back of his neck. She yanked him back up, and in one swift motion jammed him back down. His knee collided with the stone floor hard. There was a sound of something breaking, and Neville cried out in pain.

"No!" Ginny cried out. Tears streamed down her cheeks, as blood started to seep through Neville's trousers. She started to whimper as the Death Eater that held her caught her by the hair and pulled.

"Hand it over and no one will get hurt," the man said. His eyes were sincere. There was a look of hesitation in Harry's face. He took a step back. "She's next, you know," the man taunted. Harry's breath caught. He let his hands fall to his sides, the Prophecy tight in his grip. He was getting through Harry. The man took a step towards Harry, and finally, the distance was closed between them. Harry handed over the Prophecy.

Flashes of white light swung into the room, filling the darkness with a second of illumination. Things happened so fast, and the next thing they knew, they were free from the strong, restraining arms. "Draco, are you okay?" Arthur crouched down next to Draco. He nodded. Arthur looked up and ran over to Ron.

"Draco, over here!" it was a woman he had never seen, but he did as she said. He ran towards her, hiding from all the fighting that's happening. When he got closer, he realized that she had purple hair.

Draco watched the Order and the Death Eaters. It was a deadly match, and a lot could go wrong. Sirius finally emerged, and he joined Harry in a duel against the man Draco suspects is his father. The man looked around him for a moment, as if he was looking for someone in particular. And for a second, their eyes met. There was something in the way the man looked at him, how his face has softened when their eyes met, that Draco knew for sure that he was the father he's been looking for. The man looked away, zoned back into his duel.

"You children stay here," The woman, whose name happened to be Nymphadora, ordered. And they all did as she said. Mad-Eye Moody carried Neville, and laid him down on the ground. He had a cracked kneecap, and the pain had knocked him unconscious. They crouched down, hidden beneath the shadows, hidden from the view of the enemy. All around the room were bodies, moving back and forth- attacking and defending. They looked as if they were all dancing in the dance floor of death. Tongue-twisting incantations echoed in the air, and jets of light came flashing by. The atmosphere grew heavier and heavier with each second that passed.

Bellatrix Lestrange's eyes glinted with hunger and bloodlust. Her eyes roamed around the room, as she was looking for someone to kill. Her tongue flicked as her eyes locked on her next target. He moved fluidly in the center of the room, and he was winning. Winning against Lucius the way he always did back in Hogwarts, during their DADA classes.

She watched him with keen interest now, and found that nothing much has changed in the way he carried himself during battle. And she noticed the way he positioned himself- the way he pulled his elbow back, and she saw in her head what his next move would be. It seemed to have happened in slow motion. She saw the words forming in his lips, she felt her arm raising to defend Lucius, she felt the words at the tip of her tongue, but it wasn't her. She hadn't said the words, but he had died. She looked down, and her eyes found a wand raised, but no one else seemed to notice for all their eyes were on Sirius.

He was dead, but his body didn't crumple to the floor. Instead, his body went through the Veil. Harry stood there, shocked. He stared blankly at the spot where Sirius had stood in. He remembered what he had said- "Good one, James!"

He had called Harry his father's name. And he had died. His body was gone, but Harry didn't know where it went. Maybe he just fled. Maybe he took off because he was cowardly and he wasn't going to win this duel. Maybe he was back in 12 Grimmauld Place. Or maybe he was never here in the first place. Maybe it was all Harry's delusion. He wanted to believe it- he wanted to believe it so badly.

Draco stared, dumbstruck. He lowered his hand, his wand. He had said the words. He had killed someone, and if they knew, they would never forgive him. He looked helplessly around him, and found dark shadows fleeting. He watched as Harry crumpled to the floor, screaming. Arthur had his arm protectively around Harry. Arthur looked around frantically, looking for the one who had hit Sirius.

Bellatrix stayed by the distance, watching all the confusion. But she herself was confused, too. She always hated Sirius, but still, he was family. There was still a part of her who kept close to her family, even though it was buried deep inside. A small part of her, a part that had died millions of years ago, had died even more when she saw Sirius' body float into the Veil, his eyes lacking the adrenaline that filled them most of the time. Her eyes darted around the room, and found Draco. He stood there, motionless, staring blankly at nothing. She had to protect him. Before she could stop herself, she smiled widely, and started shrieking, "I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!" she kept on repeating the words, as if it was something little girls chant as they played out in the backyard.

Draco looked up at the sound of her ear-piercing screams._ She must've known_, he thought. _He must've seen me_.

"Harry, no!" Arthur called out, and Draco's eyes darted to Harry. He fought his way out of Arthur's restraints. He was on his feet, and he was running. Running towards Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who did _not_ kill Sirius Black. Draco looked over his shoulder, and found Hermione hunched over. Her shoulders shook and he heard her sobbing.

"No one's supposed to die," she said in-between her sobs, when Luna came over and rubbed her back.

_You're wrong_, _Hermione_, Draco thought. _Someone was going to die, and it was either my father or Sirius_. Draco sank to his knees. He felt tears stinging in his eyes. He wasn't crying because Sirius was dead, but because he was the one who had killed him. He had raised his wand, and had said the Unforgivable Curse. He knew, by now, that he was so far away from redemption. He couldn't breathe, he was gasping for air. White spots clouded his vision, and before everything went black, he had only one last thought- _I let my demons consume me._


	14. Guilt

_Harry took his wand out, and engaged in the dance of death with Lucius Malfoy. Sirius was right next to him, shooting spells at the Death Eater, with a brilliant smile on his face. Harry had never seen Sirius so happy. Sirius was saying something to him, but he couldn't understand the words, but he caught one- James. Until the voice he heard was no longer Sirius's voice. _

_Harry was now surrounded by darkness. He looked around, frantic. There was nothing for him to see, but there was a shrieking voice bouncing off the walls. "I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!" Bellatrix Lestrange chanted the words over and over again, taunting him, daring him, provoking him. He ran after her, following her voice in the dark. He could hear her, growing farther and farther in the distance. He could hear her laughing, mocking him. _

_There was air rushing against his back. There was still nothing but darkness, but there was also a sensation of falling. His stomach churned as the fall seemed to be endless. Until he felt something grip his hand. The grip was hard and firm, pulling him up. He saw familiar grey eyes, and he knew that it was Draco. He reached for the blonde boy and held onto him. Draco drew Harry close, and when their faces were just inches away, he could smell Draco's stale breath, like blood. "I killed Sirius Black," Draco said, then he let go of Harry. Once again, Harry was falling-_

Harry's heart constricted in his chest, and he woke gasping for air. His dark hair was pasted to his forehead, with cold sweat. His breath was ragged, as if he had been running miles. He looked around, and found that the sun was barely up in the night sky. He heard the soft snoring of the others. He swallowed thickly, running his hand through his hair. He stepped out of the bed, and walked nearer to the window. He watched the moon, full and huge, visible in the cloudless sky.

"The ones who love us never truly leave us," he whirled around, his heartbeat quickening. It was Sirius's voice, and it felt as though he had just said the words over Harry's shoulder. He squinted through the darkness, but of course, to his disappointment, there was no one. He was left with nothing but a ghost of a smile, a laugh, a lingering touch as he put his hand supportively on Harry's shoulder. He felt hot tears rolling down his cheek, as his knees buckled. He sank to the floor and wept quietly.

* * *

"Are you scared, Draco?" Fred asked, as the two of them walked through the corridor. Draco didn't answer. Fred looked at him, at his pale complexion that made the dark shadows under his eyes more visible, looked at the way his jaw was clenched, and the way his hands were balled into fists. He knew what happened, everyone did. Bellatrix told everyone what had happened at the Ministry, how Draco raised his want and said the words without hesitation. She spoke of how much potential Draco could really have. And this made the Dark Lord happy. He has his eyes on Draco, the most important pawn in this deadly game of chess. "Well, you ought to be," he continued, looking away as if he didn't notice Draco's grudging anger. "This is it, brother. This is the last year, the finally year, and you will carry out-"

"Shut up," Draco said coldly. His voice came out sharper than daggers, and his eyes grew darker, more violent. He looked like a poisonous snake, elegant and deadly. "When are you leaving?"

"After I talk to Snape," he answered, his voice now serious.

"Why don't you go find him, then." Fred, knowing better than to mess with Draco and his temper, decided to go and do as the boy said. Draco gladly went on without him, disappearing into the crowd. Draco lowered his head, avoiding everyone's gaze. He walked briskly, wanting to escape the loud chatters and excited murmurs.

He reached the empty corridor that led to the Room of Requirement, and finally he was at peace. It was quiet, except for the beating of his heart and his shoes against the stone floor. A door formed in the wall as he neared it, and after a quick glance over his shoulder, he went in. He was immediately welcomed by the smell of old and dust. Random things littered the room, but he immediately saw what he came for. Covered by a velvet cloth, it towered over everything else. He crossed the room and reached for the cloth, and pulled it off the cabinet. It looked like any normal cabinet, furnished and made of fine wood. But there was nothing normal about it, like every other thing in the world. It acts as a passage to two places, and this is what he would use to let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts.

He opened the door of the cabinet, with its gently creak making him cringe. He reached into his pocket and took out an apple he had failed to eat during breakfast. He put it inside, and shut the door close. He closed his eyes and breathed in, and mumbled, "_Harmonia Nectere Passus._" He opened his eyes, along with the door. The cabinet was empty, the apple was gone. He closed it again, and waited. Upon hearing a loud thud from the inside, he opened it hastily and to his surprise, the apple was back. He took it in his hands, and turned it over. There was a big bite on the side.

"Draco?" His heart skipped a beat as he heard Ginny's familiar voice, full of love and warmth and strength, and now, suspicion. He whirled around, hiding the apple in his pocket. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

He looked passed her and found Harry behind her. He felt his heart skip a beat. "I could ask you the same thing," Draco said, shooting Harry a look. It wasn't in his nature to be protective, but seeing his "sister" with Harry, and the fact that they were expecting the room would be empty... Maybe it was a brotherly instinct.

Ginny's cheeks turned red she might as well be turning into a giant tomato. "It's nothing," she shrugged awkwardly.

"Well, come along, then," Draco said, walking passed them. He paused, looking over his shoulder. "If it's nothing, as you say it is, then let's get out go here."

"You go on ahead," she said. "We'll be right behind you."

"No," he said, shaking his head in disapproval. "One of you come with me."

"Draco, you can't honestly-" Ginny protested, incredulously, but Draco waved him off with an impatient noise. Ginny shut her mouth into a hard thin line as she watched Harry reluctantly nodded to Draco.

Draco watched as Harry came forth, and saw Harry passing something to Ginny from behind him, trying in vain to hide it from Draco. He drew his eyebrows together, but looked away. If they were hiding something and he asked about it, he knew they would throw the question right back at his face, so he just quietly followed Harry with his gaze as the boy walked passed him. Before following him, he took one last glance at Ginny, flushed with annoyance, with her hand balled into a fist at her side. Draco looked down at her hand- she hid her arm behind her, concealing whatever it was from his view. With a shrug, he followed Harry out of the room and into the empty corridor.

Because of his brotherly instinct to be protective of Ginny, he had completely forgotten that the last thing he wanted was to be alone with Harry. He looked down at the said boy, who, like him, seemed to have been having rough nights. Like Draco, there were dark shadows forming under Harry's green eyes. He seemed thinner too, and his dark hair was shabbier. He seemed paler, as well. Though to Draco, being pale was no surprise, given that he's always been. He looked away as the sight of Harry had begun to pain him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he remembered how he had raised his wand and shakily muttered the words under his breath.

"Are you okay, Draco?" Harry asked, though there were no concern in his voice. When Draco opened his eyes, he found Harry staring at him with such an unreadable expression. His green eyes bored into Draco's grey ones. It unnerved Draco.

"I could ask you the same," Draco said, but his voice came out sharply and defensive, as if he was in denial. Upon realizing it, his voice grew softer and kinder, more full of concern. "You look sick, Harry. Are _you_ okay?"

"Of course," he said, shakily. He turned his head, away from Draco's scrutinizing eyes. He blinked numerous times, blinking away the tears forming in his eyes. Harry wasn't one to confide in another, but maybe that was the reason everything was tearing him apart. He couldn't tell Hermione about the dreams for he knew she would overreact. She would give him the attention span of a three-headed frog, maybe even four. And he couldn't tell Ron about his anxiety and paranoia because Ron wasn't really the kind of boy who was good at being confided in. He would only end up feeling awkward, and soon enough, he was going to be the one waking up in the middle of the night because of nightmares. But Draco...

Harry looked up at Draco, studying him. Draco looked like he understood Harry, but how could that be? Harry watched as the boy carelessly leaned against the stone wall. He was paler than usual, thinner, making his cheekbones more prominent. His pale complexion only made the shadows under his eyes even more visible. And aside all that, his eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. He might've been worse off than Harry, but how could that be? He didn't lose anyone close to him? Perhaps he was traumatized by the battle, but why didn't it have the same effect on the others?

Pushing the suspicion aside, Harry decided to tell Draco the truth. He leaned against the wall and sank to the floor, with his head down. His eyes stayed on his hand. "I- I'm not really okay, honestly," he started. Draco didn't say anything, just looked down at him. He took the silence as an opportunity to continue. "I have the same nightmare over and over again, and I wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat... I- I-" his hands balled into fists. "I always see him... In _every_ waking moment. I- He... He promised me. He promised me we'd be a proper family, but..." he squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears still kept coming, dropping onto his white knuckles.

Draco moved to crouch down next to him, and gently placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "He _promised_," he said through gritted teeth. "He promised me. He promised..." Harry looked up at him with glassy eyes. He cringed at the sight of a pair of tearful green eyes. He felt a pang in his chest- probably the guilt. It pains him, knowing that his friend is this way because of his own doing. "You know what the odd thing about the dream- _nightmares_ are?" he paused as if giving Draco a moment to answer, but he kept quiet. "You're always at the end of it," he said it coldly and dangerously. Draco's hand shook on his shoulders, and resigned, he stood up and took a step back from Harry. "Why is it, Draco? It starts off with Bellatrix Lestrange saying the words, but in the end... it's _you_."

Draco looked down at him in horror. It was as if he was not Harry anymore. Draco didn't know if it was the guilt causing delusions, but it seemed as though Harry's eyes were no longer green, but a very soft and misty blue. The way Voldemort had looked like when he was reborn in the graveyard. He shook his head, trying to push the image away. He blinked, and once again, Harry's eyes were green. Harry looked up at him, surprised.

There was the sound of crumbling stones as an opening appeared in the wall next to Harry. Ginny stepped out. She found Harry on the floor, and with confusion in her face, she looked from Harry to Draco and back. "What's happening here?" she asked.

"Did you do it, then?" Harry asked, as he got up from the floor, ignoring Ginny's question.

"Yes," she answered, but her eyes still searched him. Harry, with a nod, walked passed her. Ginny's eyes met Draco's, but before she could open her mouth and ask, he already had his back on her, walking to a different direction.

_What happened?_ he asked himself. He's never had any delusions, and surely that wasn't one. It was far too real. And suddenly, he was brought back to that night at the Ministry, when Harry had ran after Bellatrix. By the time Draco and the Order had found Harry, Dumbledore was there, crouching down next to Harry's body on the tiled floor. His body spasmed and he had cried out in pain. And when he opened his eyes, they weren't human. And Voldemort was there as well, mocking him, laughing at him, telling him how he would lose everything. What if Voldemort was claiming Harry? What if he was influencing him, making Harry more like him, more evil? What if Voldemort takes Harry's moment of vulnerability into great use?

But what if the Dark Lord finds greater use of Harry than him? It can't happen. Harry's had enough light, being the Chosen One and all.

No. It was Draco's time. Voldemort himself talked to him, telling him how remarkable, how talented he was... Harry may have been the Chosen One, but Draco is the favored one.

* * *

"What's happening to Harry?" Draco asked through ragged breaths as he barged into Snape's office. The room smelled strongly of old parchment from books, the ever so calming smell of tea and varying scents of potions. He looked around and found Snape behind his desk, reading the paper nonchalantly, the way a normal wizard would. Draco wondered how Snape could manage living like this, as normal as anyone, when Merlin-knows-what he does every night- probably killing muggles, setting a whole neighborhood on fire, creating plans on how to conquer both worlds...

He looked up from the paper, his face as expressionless as usual. "I haven't got the slightest idea of what you're talking about," he said, with a shrug. His voice was so cold Draco felt as though somebody dumped cold ice water on him, sending shivers throughout his body.

"He's becoming more like Voldemort," he spatted the name spitefully, as if it were poison. "I want to know _why_. Exactly, what is his connection to the Dark Lord?" The connection between Voldemort and Harry frightened him. He didn't know whether it was because he cared so much about his friend, or if it was because he was intimidated by the possibility that Harry might steal, once again, the spotlight from him.

"His connection to the Dark Lord is no more different than yours," Snape answered. Draco felt a surge of relief through him. Harry was no better than him, just as average, just as ordinary... He wasn't going to outshine him.

"Then why aren't I-"

"Have you ever considered that maybe you were born that way?" he rose to his feet, setting the paper down onto the table. "That maybe you were _exactly_ like Voldemort- as cold and as vile- ever since you were born that you _no longer have to become more like him_?" _As cold and as vile_. Draco stumbled backwards, as if he had been slapped across the face. The thought of being a Death Eater had rattled him. Killing a man had killed him, as well. Knowing that the Dark Lord himself had trusted him for an important mission made him feel important, needed. But to know that he was just as evil as Voldemort made him sick. He wondered if Voldemort felt the same guilt when he had first killed someone. Did he go through each night with eyes wide open?

A grin from smug satisfaction lit up the man's face. "You were cut out to be a Death Eater, Draco. Your purpose for living is to _kill_."

* * *

Snape leaned back into his seat as he watched Draco bolt out the door. He felt sorry for these children. They were too young to be suffering these consequences, too young to be taught very powerful Dark Magic, too young to be taking a life. But then, Snape had been younger than that when he had joined the Death Eaters. He had felt powerful and strong and capable.

But he knew these children were different from him. Draco didn't grow up where he was supposed to, in the dark halls of the Malfoy Manor, taught to despise everyone who wasn't a pureblood. No, he was raised differently. He was raised by the Weasleys, taught to love and accept. Even Harry wasn't treated well by his muggle aunt and uncle and cousin, but he found his family. His home, his friends... he found them all here in Hogwarts.

They were all too young. Born and raised, living in the warmth of the sunlight, not seeing the dark side of things.

... _And in a blink of an eye, all they could see was darkness. _

They're just about to get caught up in the middle of a storm. And very few may survive.

* * *

**_Hey, guys! Sorry I haven't been updating for a long time. And I know this chapter isn't really good enough. Truth be told, I don't even know what I was thinking when I typed this. I apologize, really. I've been such a lousy author. _**

**_To be honest, I don't really know what to do with this fanfic. I'm thinking about deleting it, but... yeah._**


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